


Tighten Up

by ok_thanks



Category: 9-1-1 (TV)
Genre: Getting Together, I would die for Maddie buckley, Idiots to friends to lovers, Is it gay to sleep with a guy, M/M, Mutual Pining, Sharing a bed with your bro but in a very platonic way, Slow Burn, Then begrudgingly become best friends, and no lawsuit cause fuck that noise, buck is asking for a friend, but it will be okay, even though they fucked first, no sexuality or identity crises just vibes, that will absolutely not cause you to Feel Things, the absolute trauma of siblings knowing too much, then fall in love?, they are dumb :)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-19
Packaged: 2021-03-12 11:14:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,020
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29259543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ok_thanks/pseuds/ok_thanks
Summary: It’s probably considered getting off on the wrong foot when you have sex with your coworker before they start their new job, right?Buck would think it’s probably not a good thing, and definitely something that shouldn’t be repeated. Especially when he becomes best friends with them. That’d be particularly stupid.
Relationships: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Eddie Diaz (9-1-1 TV)
Comments: 63
Kudos: 671





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Yes this is inspired by the pilot of greys anatomy, yes this is named after the Black Keys song. I wrote and edited this chapter and 2 am so there is most definitely a typo somewhere you can tell me about

Buck’s not stupid. He’s not going to pretend this isn’t a bad idea. But, fuck. Maddie’s back and he got cleared to go return to full duty, and he’s happy. Maybe indulging himself isn’t a bright idea, but it’s not the worst thing in the world either. 

He’s had enough to drink where he’s smiling, stupidly and for no reason. It’s just a buzz but he feels easy and like everything might finally be okay. The ache from his bruised ribs is nearly nonexistent and Bobby’s concerned looks have subsided and he’s bubbling with the fact he can go to work tomorrow and actually _work_. The beer in his hand is loosening him up, letting him unwind and soak in his giddiness. And sue him, there’s a guy two stools down from him at the bar that looks like his eyes could bore holes through the tacky wood his elbows are pressed to. He’s intense and gruff in a way that feels addictive instantly. 

Buck’s already come this far tonight, why not let himself have just a little more. That’s his rationale for sliding the two seats over, extending his hand and letting his eyes search warmly across the guy's face. It’s a move that’s obvious from a million miles away, but Buck couldn’t care less. His energy feels boundless and light and he really, really isn’t concerned with the lapse in judgement that buying the guy’s next drink entails. 

Eddie. That’s his name. His lips slide to the side and his brow furrows briefly. Whatever contemplation he’s going through is quickly absolved because he’s taking Buck’s hand and the bait, letting his head tilt to the side and ask Buck’s name with a sugary sweet lilt underlining the words. 

Buck says “Evan” because it’s easy enough, especially when something flickers across Eddie’s face. And when he says cute he seems to mean it. 

It’s easy to fall into old ways. Buck knows the danger. When Eddie shrugs into Buck’s questions there’s a balance between flirtation and actual inquiry. It doesn’t feel like how it used to, but the switch could flip instantly and Buck could be playing with fire. 

“I start a new job tomorrow,” Eddie tells him. 

“I just want to shake some nerves off,” Eddie tells him. 

“I really want to fuck you,” Eddie tells him when he’s got Buck backed up against his car, tipsy after another round of drinks. Beer, not liquor. Buck’s not that self destructive despite the way he’s toying with Eddie’s belt loops and nosing at his neck, eyes heavy with intent. 

Who’s Buck to deny one more indulgence.

— — —

It’s messy and his breaths and hands are heavy once they fall through Buck’s door and across the battleground of boxes. 

Eddie says, “Are you moving?” And like, Buck appreciates the concern, but the way Eddie’s dick is clearly outlined by his briefs is much more interesting. 

“Just moved in. New place.” Buck offers without explanation. One night stands don’t need to be privy to the depressing nature of Buck’s relationship with Abby. He gives a little nip to Eddie’s neck and shuffles them to the couch, too impatient to make it up the stairs to his half made bed. And Jesus Christ, not that the location really matters because the hands roaming his body are hot and the intention is pronounced. 

He’s not impatient exactly, but the relief spreading across his body when he finally starts to lower himself onto Eddie’s dick is just this side of overwhelming and, ha, pun intended, fulfilling. Not that Eddie’s fingers opening him up and teasing at his prostate weren’t nice, but _this_ is what he hoped for when he gave Eddie his address, had him follow him back to his apartment with eyes glazed over with _want_. 

“Jesus fuck,” Eddie swears and Buck laughs bright and loud before starting to really move. 

The way Eddie grinds into him is shameless and Buck doesn’t care if he’s being loud because Eddie is fucking him into next week. Eddie’s worrying his lip between his teeth and that won’t do. Buck’s ducking his head and letting his mouth move across Eddie’s messily. Buck clenches and Eddie twitches and swears again, hands tightening involuntarily at Buck’s hip. 

“Can I — let me,” Eddie pants before flipping them, Buck’s legs instinctively falling open, wide and inviting. And this, this is so much more than what Buck expected when he skipped two seats over and put two more Heinekens on his tab. 

Buck’s making shallow sounds, almost wounded gasps. Because, holy shit, this is so much better than before. Eddie is hitting his sweet spot with each quick thrust and his lips are latched onto Buck’s collarbone with the promise of indentations being left behind. 

Eddie says, “You’re so hot, what the fuck,” and Buck grins cheekily, plays up his charm. It earns him a particularly nice thrust and grunt from Eddie, exactly like he wanted. But Buck can’t play coy once Eddie’s hand reaches between them and pulls a desperate pleasure out of Buck. Not that Eddie seems to mind, eyes closing and hips stuttering like Buck coming all over himself is searingly hot. 

“C’mon,” Buck urges. He arches his back, pushes back good and tight to Eddie’s relentless pace. The winded expression on Eddie’s face once he comes does nothing to stop Buck from stroking his ego. 

“Yeah, yeah laugh it up.” Eddie’s smile is wobbly, but his voice is surprisingly calm for someone who just fucked Buck through his new couch, which he can’t even bother to care about. 

Buck cares even less about falling into bed with Eddie, stretching only to flick his alarm on and swallow as much water as his mouth will allow. 

  
— — —

He doesn’t wake up alone. It’s not that Buck was drunk, but feeling the burn in his muscles and phantom scratch of beard burn across his body is an instant reminder of his choices. 

“I’m late,” Buck suddenly realizes. He’s supposed to meet Maddie and drop her off at work in twenty minutes, which he cannot do with a handsome but very distracting man in his bed. He needs to shower and wash sex and bar grime off his body. He needs to move and return to the land of the living and productivity. 

He pulls himself out of bed and takes the top sheet with him as he hobbles to pull on boxers and whatever clean shirts he has unpacked. 

“I’m really late,” he restates. “And you really need to go.”

Eddie’s eyes widen briefly but his smile is amused. “I’ll get out your hair. Have to get ready for work anyway.”

“Big first day,” Buck remembers. He feels less guilty then. The guy definitely has to shower and change and get all put together and presentable for his job. He can’t remember what the job is, if Eddie even told him. 

“Uh huh.” Eddie’s still staring at him with that look. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“Right, yeah. Yeah, great.” 

Eddie laughs and eyes crinkle like the way Buck’s suddenly flustered is amusing to him. 

— — — 

Maddie doesn’t bitch at him for his borderline lateness, even if he deserves it. But she does eye him warily with the unnerving scrutiny only a sibling can manage. 

“Isn’t it fun we’re both going back to work today?” Maddie remarks. Buck nods belatedly. But it certainly isn’t fun when she tacks on “I hope you got a good night’s rest.”

Buck really considers leaving her on the freeway. 

“Ha ha, real funny, Mads.” His sister does not need to know about his lapse in restraint, and she definitely does not need to tease him for it. 

He already knows he’ll get a ribbing from Chim and Hen, expectant on the inevitable remarks about christening his new apartment. He knows he’ll blush and try to roll it off his back. What he does not expect is seeing a new car in the parking lot and having his assumption about one of the last shift members staying late being incorrect. 

Because, oh no. The universe is surely playing tricks on him. Serving all kinds of karma back for his brief regression into hoe-dom and teasing of Maddie and when he threw away those beer cans instead of recycling them last week. 

Hen, Chim, and Bobby are huddled together and talking with a hint of excitement when Buck walks in. And when Hen turns toward him he can see clear into the changing room and the open locker door swaying from its hinges. He doesn’t hear Hen crowing with evil delight at the bite mark blooming and poking out from under Buck’s collar because all the blood is rushing out of his head and causing his ears to ring and muffle everything else out. 

Because the guy pulling an LAFD shirt taut across his shoulder is definitely familiar. And so are his abs and the trail of hair extending down his navel. Those are definitely familiar and Buck is either having deja vu or a stroke because he’s flushing with the memory of tracing both of those with his tongue and the weight of alcohol across his eyes. 

When Buck says “Who the hell is that?” He really means “Why is the guy that fucked me within an inch of his cognizance standing in their locker room?”

Buck knows what Bobby’s going to say before his mouth even opens, because suddenly all of Eddie’s remarks from last night are sliding into place and Buck is caught between being mortified and being, what — flustered? He’s 27 he doesn’t need to be flustered about seeing a guy he slept with. That’s happened before. 

But it feels drastically different when _Eddie Diaz, new recruit_ , as Bobby indicated is letting his eyes wander over to Buck’s. And that brief second when their eyes meet Buck knows what’s happening. He watches Eddie’s eyebrows raise, a mirror from last night at the bar, and his shoulder roll and he seems amused, just like this morning when Buck shooed him out of his bed. 

Objectively, Eddie should be the one stressed in this situation. He’s the one who slept with someone above him in this chain of command. He’s the one coming into this crew on unequal footing. But Buck’s the one feeling like he’s been punched in the gut with the wind whooshing out of him. Eddie is nonchalant, eyes blinking innocently back at Buck. 

Because of course the one time in months he lets himself return to his old ways, he finds someone that’s hot and easy enough to talk to, someone who's there and willing. And he expects to let himself throw caution out the window for one night and regain his footing in the morning with the promise of last night’s indiscretions staying in last night. 

But of course nothing about this is objective. Eddie’s shirt is tight across his arms and his tattoos pronounced against his skin. His smile is still nice and his lips bunched peculiarly to the side in contemplation. And Buck knows instantly that he can’t avoid this. 

Hen says something unreadable and Buck can feel the soft vibration of Chim’s laugh pushing against his rib cage. Can sense Bobby’s gaze focused on him. 

He is completely fucked, at least Buck knows this much. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I will ignore plot points that hurt my feelings on purpose <3
> 
> if you seem me making typos in this after staying up all night before my 3 morning classes, no u did not

Buck’s a brat. He’s not ashamed of this. Really, he’s come to embrace it. And he’s had practice, years of it charming Maddie into slipping him an extra slice of cake and giving him five more minutes in front of the tv. 

Point is, Buck might be a brat and he might preen under the special attention only the youngest sibling earns — even if he’s applying this logic to Bobby and the 118. He’s not, however, a blatant dick, despite how he’s acting on Eddie’s first shift. 

Because Eddie is handsome and definitely strong, and clearly brave and honorable considering the guy’s got a silver star and a whole slew of training as an army medic, and _sheeeesh_. Buck cannot compete with that or shake the itching, grinding pressure that’s coating his bones. Eddie’s pulling everyone in and Buck gets it, he’s kind and selfless and has arms that are unfairly huge. He can’t even blame Chim and Hen for fawning over Eddie. He’s the one who was bearing his throat and pressing his fingernails against Eddie’s chest not even twelve hours ago and — Buck is really losing the point here. 

When he idles in the bathroom to get a second to breathe without the scrutiny of Eddie’s focused gaze, he finally lets his emotions be transparent. It feels like a goddamn Christmas Carol and Eddie’s the ghost of Christmas past. For the first time since Abby, Buck let himself do something with aching, lonely want that presses down on his chest. And now his indiscretion is eating lunch in his place of work, taunting Buck and goading him to throw caution to the wind and make a fool of himself in several different ways.

And Buck is really praying that Eddie’s all talk, but in the theme of the day, he’s upset. It’s clear from their first call that Eddie isn’t competent, he’s beyond everyone’s expectations. It’s entrancing to see his fingers move expertly and his mind buzz as quickly as Buck’s, and arrive at stupidly great conclusions. Eddie’s not just smart, he’s clever. And despite the wonders it does for saving people on their calls, it pisses Buck off more. 

Buck’s first few weeks were centered around stern looks, second chances, and Bobby’s eyes meeting his, begging him to give himself the chance to grow, to be more than he was. It was about fucking up and trying, really trying, to understand what was fueling the bright anger that pounded against his eyes and made everything seem electric and unstoppable. Hen, Bobby, and Chim are his family now, but he had to earn that. And it was hard, really fucking hard. Everyone seemed to doubt it initially, but he wanted to be good. It’s all Buck’s ever wanted. To be accepted. To be _good_.

And Eddie doesn’t have to go through any of that. He breezes into the station, sits himself along Buck in the rig, and no one bats an eye. Eddie doesn’t have to prove anything and it makes every nerve in Buck’s body light up with something greedy and unnameable. 

It’s just above that level of subtlety. 

Eddie challenges him. It makes Buck’s blood boil and his hands still. It makes him question himself when Bobby’s hand lands on Buck’s shoulder, letting Eddie take the lead. 

And Eddie says, “What are we measuring here, Buck?” And Buck wants — wants to what? Yell back? Fuck him? Prove himself right?

Everything about this day feels like a losing battle.

— — — 

“You can’t hate him just because he’s hot.” Hen advises pleasantly. They’re between calls, which is prime _Tease-Buck-Hours_ for Hen and Chim.

She doesn’t miss the way Buck’s cheeks flush at the remark, how he’s suddenly very interested in his pasta salad. 

He doesn’t retort back _he’s not_ but it’s close.

“I don’t _hate_ him.”

“Realllly?” Chimney is too pleased across the table. It’s disgusting. Buck tells him as much. 

Really, Buck wants to clarify, he doesn’t hate Eddie. But it’s driving him crazy and a bit out of control. He’s being an ass, but every time he makes snide quips, Eddie’s eyes land on him. It’s addictive in the worst sort of way. Apparently Buck still has a flair for self destruction. 

— — — 

Eddie says, “I know you’re going through some personal stuff right now.” And Buck’s hand stills on his weights. He doesn’t like this -- this whole Eddie hearing about Abby and being able to connect the dots between her and his half unpacked apartment. This isn’t simple or fun or any other thing he was searching for when he let his guard down last night. 

“I’m just saying I hear you’re a good guy, and I’m sorry you’re going through pain,” and Jesus, Eddie’s opening his mouth like this is making things any better. “But you don’t have to take it out on me. Or be threatened by me. We’re on the same team, Evan”

Chim’s suddenly very bored with his pull ups. His eyebrows raise and his attention feels searing on Buck’s back. 

“Yeah, _Evan_?” Chim repeats. 

“Shut up.”

“Isn’t that your name?” Eddie’s tone is steady, but Buck can see the flicker of something more on his face, like he’s daring Buck to lash out again. 

Buck doesn’t want to play this game. And he definitely doesn’t want to fuel Chimney’s excitement about Buck’s _jealousy_ , at least that’s the word he and Hen have been using. 

“Just Buck.” He rolls his shoulders, pastes on his sweet and calm smile. The one he uses talking to supermarket cashiers and parent’s fretting at call sights. 

He can do this. De-escalation. Detente. Peace keeping, really. Buck can be cordial and professional, cool headed and logical. 

But then they extract a bomb from some guy’s chest cavity and Eddie says: “You can have my back any day,” and all that shit about mature boundaries goes out the window. 

— — — 

“Truce,” Eddie huffs. 

“Friends.”

“Right.” Eddie grinds his teeth. “Friends.”

But it doesn’t feel very friend-like when Buck’s on his knees and Eddie’s hands have a vice grip on his hair and his breathing is shallow and his abs tensing with Buck’s movements. It isn’t anything but desperation on both their accounts. Eddie’s body is working overtime with his inability to restrain himself. He lets his finger slip and rub against Buck’s cheek where his dick is clearly outlined, feel where Buck’s lips are slick and so pink it’s on the brink of short-circuiting his brain. And Buck’s not much better with his knees spread and letting shallow sounds vibrating around Eddie. There’s no point in pretending he’s not as eager as Eddie and that this isn’t making him just as hard and needy for whatever Eddie will give him.

“Jesus fucking Christ.” Eddie pants and moves his finger to the side of Buck’s jaw, encouraging and too hot for Buck not to look at. If this is the last this happens, Buck wants to see just how destroyed Eddie is.

Of course when Buck pulls back, lets his lips relax against the head of Eddie’s dick to smirk and tease him more, Eddie comes all over his face.

Eddie makes another wounded sound and is trying to apologize when Buck lets his tongue peek out and his eyes darken, peering up at Eddie through his lashes. Buck’s laugh is raspy and as fucked out as he feels. “That didn’t feel very friendly.” The accompanying _thump_ of Eddie’s head against Buck’s front door makes his smile even brighter. 

“I can stop,” Eddie warns when he pulls Buck up, and uses hot hands to direct his hips. Eddie boxes him against the kitchen counter, hands sliding down Buck’s chest. He doesn’t waste time pulling his belt off and tearing the zipper of Buck’s jeans down. The front of Buck’s underwear is wet and feeling tacky with pre-come and he needs the fabric off yesterday, needs Eddie’s hands, his mouth, _anything_. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Eddie asks, fingers sliding under his shirt and teasing his nipples. Dirty pool.

“Definitely not.” And who can blame Buck when there’s a hand hot and insistent against his briefs, a mouth nipping at the crease where his neck and shoulder meet. 

When Buck comes, Eddie’s mouth follows where Buck’s throat has stretched back with a moan that is certainly going to stick in Eddie’s memory. Eddie’s still swiping at Buck’s lips and rubbing his thumb in slow circles against his cheek. Buck realizes belatedly that his facial is obviously still there, and that Eddie is territorial. Buck doesn’t think friends are supposed to come on each other’s faces and rub the proof into their skin with dark, wide eyes.

“Is it too late for that beer,” Eddie grins, but Buck’s attempt to flip him off feels weak when Eddie’s come is still staining his throat and at least one other location. It takes more effort than Buck’s willing to admit when he detangles himself from Eddie.

Eddie flicks the bottle caps off while Buck runs the sink, pats himself dry with whatever cheap paper towels he had the foresight to buy. 

And the real kicker is, once Buck’s shed his crumpled clothes for sweats and a ratty tee, he realizes he _likes_ Eddie. He likes his deadpan humor and the way his eyes light up when he starts talking about Christopher and Texas and his exasperation with LA traffic. And he likes turning on whatever baseball game is on and shooting the shit, ignoring the fact there’s a mountain of boxes pushed into every corner of the room. 

When Buck corners him by the front door, hand pushing against Eddie’s ribs, he says: “Friends, for real this time? No more...” Buck trails off, shrugging at the clumsy way Eddie’s belt is settled on his hips. 

“You wish.”

“Very funny,” Buck retorts. 

— — — 

It doesn't have to be explicitly said after that. Because Buck and Eddie are friends, real friends who hang out after work and play pool together between calls, friends who slowly ease past surface level personal conversations. And friends definitely don’t fuck each other. So Buck and Eddie don’t, excluding that first day, when Buck invited him over for peace-keeping beers that ended with Eddie coming on his face in Buck’s hallway. 

They don’t talk about it, which is fine. Buck is able to compartmentalize to the best of his ability. His emotions from tough calls seep into his chest and leave him feeling raw and wounded, but this is different. He can look at Eddie and not feel flustered about knowing what he looks like panting and perfect above Buck. 

It’s fine. Hen and Chim cast questionable looks his way the first few weeks, but things begin to settle. Even Maddie drops her teasing, which is the biggest miracle of all. 

Everything starts to feel manageable. Walking through his apartment doesn’t hurt anymore. The high windows and modern staircase leading to the lofted bedroom is a stark difference from the warm pastels of Abby’s apartment. The space feels open and the way Maddie’s laugh encases the room sends a thrill up Buck’s spine in a way that he’d almost forgotten. The memories of their family, just the two of them, don’t feel so removed anymore. When Maddie snorts and leers at Buck for leaving damp towels on his bedroom floor, there’s a warmth in his chest that is so familiar and encompassing it nearly knocks Buck over. 

It’s that tenderness Buck could never name. And when Maddie moves into her own apartment, Buck’s heart does a weird flip in excitement. All those things he used to want feel achievable. It’s more than his teenage self imagined when he longed for Maddie coming home and staying with Buck, keeping him company, keeping him safe. 

He likes having her here. He likes that they’re older, that they’re stronger and have their own lives, their own little families that start to meld together and make Buck sick with love. 

It doesn’t faze Buck when he realizes that Eddie’s part of that picture. Maddie smirks at him, asks if his boy-crush on Eddie means he’s moving on from Abby. It’s stupid that he blushes. He’s literally had sex with Eddie, the teasing accusation of a crush shouldn’t affect him like it does. 

It’s just — Buck’s spent so long searching for something, a feeling that words can’t capture. And when he sees Eddie hoisting Christopher onto the fire truck, Bobby turning on the sirens to make him squeal and smile, Buck’s heart isn’t thunderous. It’s calm and steady across his chest. 

—- —- —- 

It’s a few weeks later when Maddie questions him. “You’re spending a lot of time with Eddie.” It’s a tactical move. Buck’s shoveling hummus into his mouth when his sister starts her attack. 

He doesn’t choke, he’d like the record to reflect that. 

“What makes you say that?”

“You just spent ten minutes telling me about building a lego replica of a Nets court with Chris. And before that you told me about a Paw Patrol plot line.”

“First of all, it was the Lakers,” Buck clarifies and busies himself with the pita bread in front of him. 

Maddie is unimpressed. “Is that what you got from that?”

“He likes Lebron,” Buck shrugs. All kids like Lebron. What kid likes the Nets? This should be obvious. 

“Okaaaay.” The way Maddie sips her wine feels very pointed and judgemental. Buck didn’t even know that was possible. 

“You know what they say about people who live in glass houses? That they shouldn’t throw stones.”

Maddie snorts. “Do I live in the glass house in this scenario?”

“All I’m saying,” Buck grins, stretching himself out along the couch. “Is that I’m not the only one spending a lot of time with Chimney.”

The frustrated sigh Maddie gives feels victorious. 

— — —- 

When he drives home Maddie’s words are stuck in his head. Buck is spending a lot of time with Eddie. He introduced him to Carla and the gracious, amazed look of Eddie’s face startled him. It made his throat dry and his head tangled and fried. 

And recently, it’s just little things. He bought Chris that lego set, spent all of last Friday night camped out on Eddie’s living room carpet searching for six by two pieces for the nosebleed seats. 

Their friendship took off so naturally. It’s not how he felt with friends in college, the guys he met training for the SEALS. It’s not like his relationships with Chim and Hen. 

It’s something special and unable to be articulated. As soon as they called the truce, Buck’s attitude reset. He didn’t have to be brash and pissy to get Eddie’s attention. He just had to be himself, and it was so much better because Eddie likes that. He likes Buck’s jokes and his ability to recall useless information. But most of all, Eddie likes the attention Buck pays to Christopher. How Buck positions himself to talk to Chris at eye level and lets him be independent. He listens patiently to Christopher’s story and genuinely _listens_ unlike most adults that simply nod along unconcerned. 

Buck tries to rationalize it. It’s not like he doesn’t spend time with Denny, with May and Harry. He helps Harry with his history assignments and indulges May with watching Grey’s Anatomy when Athena gets sick of Ellen Pompeo and hearing Chasing Cars for the hundredth time. 

He volunteers to babysit all the kids when he senses Hen’s sulking moods after calls with children, and Bobby’s tight lipped smile he feigns after apartment building fires. He sees when Eddie’s shoulders slump and there’s bags blossoming under his eyes. Buck likes setting up shop in Athena and Bobby’s house and watching Jeopardy with May, both of them answering along with Trebek’s clear voice, while Denny, Harry, and Chris playing video games and eating far more sugar than their parents would allow. 

It’s obvious Bobby’s pride in him is growing. His hands are heavy and meaningful when he embraces Buck at the end of the night. It’s easy to let Hen and Karen’s residual excitement from regular date nights wash over him. It never feels like a chore, no matter how many times Hen and Athena question his unwavering willingness. For all their jokes about Buck being a kid at heart, there’s a feeling of fullness and contentment that settles over his sternum when he sees Denny, Harry, and May comfortable and trusting towards Buck. 

But he doesn’t get the giddy feeling around them that does with Chris. When he goes home at the end of the night he doesn’t think up ways to spend his off days doing fun and accessible activities to do with them. He doesn’t think about how his shifts line up with everyone else. The amount of time he dedicates to examining when Eddie and him have the same off-shifts, if those align with weekday afternoons or school holidays. 

Maddie backs off when she realizes what’s happening. It’s not just about whatever crush she thinks Buck has. Buck likes being there, giving Chris what he never had, even if he’s not his parent. It’s nice knowing that he can be the one stopping a kid from spending his days in after school care, playing games missing more pieces than those in the box, drinking leftover milk cartons, and dialing the number his parents always fail to answer. 

Eddie doesn’t mention it, but Buck’s not oblivious enough to think he’s not picking up on the care he directs towards Christopher. He never complains or tells Buck to fuck off. Buck feels useful, he feels good. 

—- —- —- 

A few months into Eddie’s probationary period, Buck tries to ride the high of their last call. The success of their work makes him feel pride, heightens that sense of usefulness. 

“We should go out. First round on me.”

“Date night,” Hen explains, hands raised in resignation. “Already have a sitter lined up.” There’s a sweetness to her rejection Buck can’t begrudge. 

Bobby begs off too. “I’m seeing Athena after my meeting,” he explains. “We’re taking Harry and May bowling.”

Buck narrows his focus to Chim who won’t meet his eyes. “And you?” Buck presses. 

The way Chim tries to be nonchalant falls flat. “I’m seeing Maddie.”

Hen hoots and hollers when Chimney rubs the back of his neck, bashful but pleased. 

“Gross.”

“She’s your sister,” Bobby warns. 

“Exactly.”

Hen pats his shoulder on her way out, apologetic and well intentioned. “Next time, Buck.” And Buck believes her. “We’re getting teppanyaki,” she explains.

Karen loves teppanyaki. Hen’s eyes do something soft and sweet when Buck states that aloud. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Buckaroo.”

Bobby and Chim echo the sentiment on their way out. Chimney is still flushed, but the careful attention he directs to his sister makes Buck happy in a weird and disgusted way, not that he’ll admit it. 

Buck’s resigned himself to a night of the Discovery channel and shitty IPAs when he feels Eddie hedging against Buck’s locker. 

“Christopher’s hosting his first sleepover tonight.”

Buck’s forehead crinkles. “I know,” he nods at Eddie. “He told me last week when we watched Moana.”

Eddie’s face does something complicated before he clears his throat and smooths his brow. “It’s no great shakes, but you can come co-supervise if you want. I have a six pack set aside for the aftermath of the inevitable meltdown someone will have.”

A shy smile creeps onto Buck’s lips. “Well someone needs to keep you in check, make sure you don’t burn the popcorn.”

“That happened one time.”

“It was a microwave bag.”

“I got distracted. Raising my child.”

He lets the weak excuse fly, relieved by Eddie’s attention and the way he seems genuinely welcome to Buck’s presence. “I’ll come,” Buck promises and preens under Eddie’s soft touch of his forearm. 

— — —

“Isn’t it a little weird you spent your break herding eight year olds around their sleeping bags?”

Hen is absolutely joyous when Eddie casually mentioned Buck’s French toast winning over sleepy eyed children. 

“No,” he says definitively. “Besides, they stayed up way later than they should have. I thought Eddie was going to have a stroke when they were still giggling at 1 a.m.”

It’s Bobby’s turn to narrow his eyes at Buck. “And you know this how?”

Somehow Bobby’s voice is more intimidating. Like a concerned father who knows Buck is doing something he shouldn’t be. It’s the same tone he takes when Harry’s scrambling to finish his homework at 7 in the morning when they’re already late to school. 

“Uh.”

“Buck stayed over,” Eddie clarifies even though Hen’s already preparing her attack on the situation. His tone is innocent, like he doesn't see Hen and Chim's frenzied smiles. Like he didn't see the pointed looks when Buck drove to work with Eddie, carrying a coffee cup with the logo for an El Paso store across the sides. Hen and Chim are eating this up. They're smiling like it's Christmas morning and Buck sleeping over at Eddie's house is the main gift rapped with a big red bow. 

“Was it his first sleepover too?” Chimney’s face is way too pleased. 

“Ha ha. Says the man not-dating my sister.”

The accompanying stutter helps Buck heartbeat slow down. 

When the bell rings it feels like divine intervention. Eddie bumps their shoulders together once they’re seated in the truck. He lowers his voice so only Buck can hear. “Thank you. Again.” His face is open and his focus on Buck makes him want to squirm. 

He can’t think about the way Eddie looked in the morning, soft and frenzied when he realized he still had several more hours with a group of hyper children. How Buck’s hands stilled, frozen where he was leaned over the sizzling butter and bread in the pan. Because he was hit with the fact he could categorize Eddie’s mood with the way his body was postured and the lilt of his voice vibrating out his chest. It made Buck feel winded in the same way he did after a tough call. 

He pushes these feelings down and tries not to lean into Eddie’s touch. Sometimes he forgets about those first two nights and the way Eddie looked at him with hooded eyes across the bar. The fact that Eddie’s passed out in his bed and has seen Buck at the brink of coming undone. Those versions of themselves feel foreign now. And he knows he likes this reality better. 

He can’t think about it because he’ll never be able to stop the feelings. But he likes feeling domestic and settled. Doing menial chores like sweeping up flour from Eddie’s kitchen floor and switching Eddie’s laundry from the washer to the dryer while Chris is being put to bed. He really likes when Eddie leans over him or hands him the remote, starts setting the table and calls him _Evan_ in a quiet, inviting voice, like he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. 

Only Maddie calls him that usually. But when Eddie’s mouth moves around the letters easily, Buck realizes how intimate it feels, how much he loves it. 

He doesn’t know when they fell into these habits. How quickly Buck started spending his free time between cooking with Maddie, third wheeling her and Chim and hanging out with Eddie. Sinking into the couch between him and Chris. Shrugging off the girls at the bar to play darts with Eddie and analyze Maddie and Chim’s karaoke skills with Eddie. To do puzzles and watch Disney movies with Chris on Saturday nights. 

No one verbalizes the change, but Buck sees how Hen's eyes narrow after Buck shrugs off women flirting with him on calls. How her eyes become even more calculating when girls sidle up to him at the karaoke bar and run perfectly painted nails up his forearm, and Buck's smile is indifferent and his face contorts slightly like he's searching for a way out. 

Buck knows Bobby is giving him approving looks, proud that Buck is using his time constructively. It’s not about avoiding being alone, Buck tells Maddie. He genuinely likes doing these things. He likes being around Eddie and it’s not about proving himself or making himself useful and valuable to someone else. 

It’s beyond undoing the way his family made him feel and the emptiness that Maddie’s transition to college left him with. He has Maddie again now, but he also has himself. He has Bobby and the rest of the 118. And when he’s battered and worn down by long, hard shifts that feel like endless uphill battles, he has Eddie egging him on, extending obvious invitations to follow him home and bask in the quiet domestic haven Buck’s built around their friendship. 

It’s new grounding. It feels the closest to perfection Buck has ever come. It surpasses how he felt moving around the country to embrace his first taste of freedom, or the way he felt changed with Abby. He has a place that finally feels like his own. And he has people to fill that space. He has dinners with Maddie, cooking competitions with Bobby and Harry, he has Eddie and Christopher stretched out in their backyard and imagining shapes out of wisp-white clouds. 

And then Buck’s leg is pinned under the crushing weight of their firetruck and the world feels too bright, too real and vital.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> gm I will not dwell on the tsunami because that was sad as hell and i'm still amazed at how bad those special effects were. today i will choose violence in a different way <3 some good old fashioned yearning  
> If u commented i saw it and im love with you, thank you

He doesn’t want to talk about the hospital. He doesn’t even want to think about it and Maddie wiping tears away when she thinks Buck isn’t looking, Bobby asking him for the thousandth time if needs another jello-cup or a book or some clothes from his apartment. He can’t think about Hen and Chim taking shifts to sit at his bedside and talk about the most inane shit. 

Apparently Chim has become very involved in the Real Housewives of Beverly Hills and he has  _ so many _ opinions on Lisa Vanderpump leaving the show. Hen explains, in excruciating detail, why she hates Beat Bobby Flay and the fact that Denny wants to start playing soccer, which Karen is inexplicably opposed to. 

They beam when Buck slowly starts talking back. Telling Chim, yes he does know who Denise Richards is, and no, he doesn’t agree that Erika is the best cast member; refuting Karen’s unwavering opposition and saying if they all went to Angel City soccer game she might change her mind, even though they haven’t signed any players, but Buck is holding out hope that Carli Llyod will leave New Jersey.

He can’t think about the fragile looks Eddie started giving him when he’d hang by the doorway like he was scared to cross the threshold and admit what happened to Buck. Like he’s also afraid to remember the desperate way Eddie clawed at Buck to pull him out from under the truck and the death grip he maintained the whole way to the hospital. 

— — —

He doesn’t know what to do with himself when he’s discharged. He can’t sit still and walking around is generally frowned upon given his state. When he slowly starts to heal, Eddie and Bobby come over with beer and takeout. Athena invites him to her and Hen’s wine nights, even though he knows there’s usually a strict  _ ladies only _ invite list. Buck doesn’t even like wine much, but he does like the snappy way Athena and Hen bounce off each other, making Buck laugh harder than he has in months.

But most of all he likes when Chris comes over and Eddie has to pretend he doesn’t get riled up when Buck throws red shells and bananas at him during Mario Kart. The big, toothy grin Chris flashes him when his dad loses is a little intoxicating. Buck feels safe, he realizes, with Chris sandwiched between him and Eddie. 

— — —

If the ladder truck incident was bad, the Tsunami is worse. Buck pointedly avoids talking about it with anyone other than his therapist because there’s no way to open his mouth and not let all his guilt about losing Chris pour out. No one else holds it against him, but it doesn’t make him feel any better.

— — —

It only takes a week and a half for Buck to crack.

“You’re not sleeping,” Eddie tells him like it’s common knowledge.

“How would you know that?”

“Cause you look like shit. And Maddie said you sent her a Tweet at 4 a.m. the other day.”

It was a video of an obese racoon jumping all over some guy, it was important. Buck won’t take any judgement for it.

“It’s just --” What is Buck trying to say? He doesn’t want to bottle the big, scary feelings up anymore, but honesty feels just as daunting. But Eddie’s eyes are soft, imploring. Like he genuinely wants to know every horrible thing running through Buck’s mind in the middle of the night. “It’s just lonely. In my apartment.”

And Eddie says, “so stay with me,” like it’s the easiest thing in the fucking world.

— — —

Eddie shepards him home and plants him on the couch with the cross of his arms and the force of his eyes. Buck’s too tired to even trace the way Eddie’s muscles move against his shirt in that pose. 

He’s throwing Buck’s duffel into the guest room without question, pulling this toiletry bag out to put under the bathroom sink. Buck can see a case of his favorite cider on the counter, the expensive one Eddie always teases him for ordering at the bar. There’s granola bars and Rice Chex behind that and Bucks swallows weirdly. Eddie had bought all of this before he even invited Buck to stay with him. Like he knew what he was going to do, and that he knew what Buck would say in response. 

“Chris wants fried rice tonight, is that okay?”

When he says “absolutely. Anything for him,” it doesn’t feel exaggerated or frightening. He means it, Buck really means it. Anything, for Chris. Anything for Eddie.

— — —

“I’m really, really happy you’re here.” Christopher’s grin is toothy and open when Buck follows him to his room after dinner and a few episodes of TV. There’s new artwork on the wall and Chris has moved some of his stuffed animals around.

“I’m really, really happy I’m here too,” Buck promises. He sits on the edge of Chris’ bed while he gets ready for bed and brushes his teeth. 

“What are you guys going to do tomorrow?” Buck gapes at Eddie, leaning against the doorframe and folding his arms in that distracting way that Buck likes a little too much.

“Us?”

Eddie rolls his eyes back. “Yes, Buck. I have a shift tomorrow. And you’re my free childcare now.”

“Where’s Carla?”

“Florida,” Chris tells him, arm tugging on Buck’s sleeve.

“She took some weeks off.” Buck did not know that. It’s a fact Eddie carefully failed to mention earlier while he ransacked Buck’s drawers and shoved clothes into a bag for him. “So what are you doing tomorrow? Probably should try something inland.”

There’s no judgement in Eddie’s voice. His smile is wry and mocking. Buck doesn’t know what to do with it.

“I was going to go shopping with Maddie. She’s going to a nursery.” His body angles towards Chris automatically. “Would you want to come with me?”

“Always.”

“It won’t be boring for you? Pinky promise?”

Eddie’s smile from the doorway is soft. “He’s never bored with his Buck.”

Buck’s chest tightens automatically. It’s not the pressing weight he felt in the hospital, or at home tangled helplessly in his sheets, willing sleep to come. This is better, so much better. 

“We could buy some flower seeds maybe,” Buck tells Chris. “How about that?”

“Dad always kills plants.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, buddy.”

Eddie snorts. “No, it’s true. I have a black thumb.”

“Well,” he tells Chris, starting to settle the blankets over him and dramatically tucking them against his legs. “I’m better than your daddy. I won’t let our plants die, promise.”

— — —

Buck doesn’t know what to do with it. He doesn’t know how to regain his footing and feel like any version of himself that bears the slightest resemblance to who he was before over a ton of weight pinned him between asphalt and unyielding metal. 

— — —

The first day is easy, but there’s that looming feeling like it won’t last and Buck’s stupid to think that way. Eddie makes it clear the next night that this isn’t a short-term thing, that Buck will be here until Eddie deems him fit to go home without falling back into bad habits of wallowing in the front of his TV.

Buck doesn’t argue. Eddie fusses over him in a tense and unwavering way. But there’s an undercurrent of something stronger. Something that feels like love.

Eddie pauses when they inevitably part for the night. His palm feels desperate when it wraps around Buck’s arm. “You don’t have to stay.” His voice melts into the tone he usually reserves for Christopher after a bad day. “If you don’t want…” he trails off.

“I want to,” Buck answers quickly. Buck goes to bed after that, before he can do something stupid like look at Eddie’s lips and start considering things they agreed were very not friend-like.

— — —

“Chris is off school.” Buck knows this. It’s June. They went over this last night. “I need you to watch him again, while I go to work.”

It’s not a question again. It’s just Eddie and his strong arm attitude, Eddie and his trust wrapping around Buck. 

“Chris liked going to the nursery with you, even though god knows how long I’ll be scrubbing dirt out from under his nails.”

"Are you sure-"

"Buck," Eddie urges. "Of course it's okay."

"I'm no Carla."

Eddie pats his on the chest teasingly. "No shit." His tone is shifts, wrapping Buck closer, borrow Chris' nickname for him. "You're _Bucky_ , that's so much better."

— — —

They all fall into an easy pattern after a couple weeks. Buck supervises breakfast and has Chris load the dishwasher while Eddie gets ready for work and checks Buck over for any residual bruising, inside or out. And then Eddie leaves and Buck does whatever he can. He reads a Harry Potter book to Chris while they laze around the backyard. Then they watch the movie and start the cycle over again. They try watercolor painting, which neither of them like, then move on to sand art, which Eddie doesn’t like after sweeping and vacuuming the living room at least three times. Scrabble. Mario Kart. Even a botched attempt at paper mache. He’s never spent more time pacing the Target craft aisles than he ever imagined. 

Buck does anything he can to keep moving. Because if he stops for one second he thinks about the weight daring to bury him under the asphalt, the rush of water toppling Chris and dragging him away. 

He tries. But everyday his leg starts to ache or his eyes feel scratchy and uncooperative, or he feels like plain  _ shit _ . 

He doesn’t want to feel sorry for himself, but he knows Chris can sense when Buck’s shoulders are tense and his energy doesn’t come so naturally. After Buck exhausts his home science experiments with chromatography and a coke and mentos cocktail, Chris looks as tired as Buck feels. 

— — —  
  


Eddie finds them curled up in his bed. He can see Buck’s body in a tense line under the sheets. His face is caught between some unnameable feelings. 

Chris is next to him. There’s a book tucked awkwardly between his body and Buck’s. Eddie can see Christopher’s glasses set aside on the nightstand and the secure grip of Buck’s arm around his son. 

Buck’s keeping him anchored there, like he won’t let Chris out of his sight, even in sleep. Eddie doesn’t want to analyze why his mouth is suddenly dry after seeing the way their bodies have slightly bent together and Buck’s wedged his chin above Christopher’s head. It’s protective. It’s something Eddie would do. 

“Daddy?”

Eddie needs to clear his throat before nodding back. “Hi buddy.”

“Dinner time?”

It’s almost six and he’s starving after his shift, but he feels transfixed staring at the bed. 

“Yea, dinner time. Hey, let’s be quiet. We don’t wanna wake Buck up, right?”

— — —

Eddie lets Chris pour the penne into the boiling water while he idly stirs tomatoes and meatballs in a saucepan, and tries to throw the question out casually. Christopher shrugs it off. “Sometimes Bucky gets really sleepy. So we just chill in your room.”

“Is that okay?”

Chris crinkles his nose like it’s a stupid question. “Duh, daddy. Buck’s too tall for my bed. Sometimes we play games. Like i-spy, or categories. Or sticks. But usually Buck’s just tired. So I read to him.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to do with that. 

“Why’s that?”

“You said you like tucking me in because then you know I’m safe in bed.”

“Uh huh.”

“And you read me a story when I can’t sleep. So I wanted to do that for Bucky.”

There’s not much else Eddie can do but pull Chris up on his hip and press a tight kiss to the side of his head. 

“That’s very nice of you, Chris.”

“It’s what he does for me.” Yeah, Eddie doesn’t need to confront Buck’s role as a parental figure in Christopher’s life too much either if he wants to stay sane. 

Whatever he was going to say anyway is derailed when Buck slinks into the kitchen, sleep rumpled and unusually sheepish. Instead of saying stupid, Eddie passes Buck an oven mitt and nods toward the garlic bread in the oven. Dinner isn’t quiet, but it’s torn between that and the usual high energy Buck and Chris go head to head for, feeding off each other’s stories and laughter. Once Chris starts recounting the story about a dog they met at the park, Eddie can see the color returning to Buck’s cheeks. And when Chris turns his softest, sweetest look at Eddie and says “Can we get a puppy?” Buck’s laugh is warm and Eddie feels high off the sound of it, off the way Buck’s cheeks move familiarly with a burst of laughter.

— — —

Buck corners him once the dishes are done and Chris is in the shower.

“I’m sorry.”

Eddie hates the big, apologetic look Buck is giving him. He hates that someone has ever made Buck feel small, or wrong, or bad. Hates that anyone could push on those hangdog eyes.

Eddie can see Buck’s mouth open, and he steps forward without thinking about it, pulls the last clean plate out of his hands and sets it on the counter. “Buck, hey,” Buck’s skin is soft where Eddie’s fingers land, his thumb close enough to swipe against the dip of his collarbone. He waits for Buck to meet his eyes before pressing his fingers down with a bit more pressure. “You have nothing to apologize for. Ever.”

“I shouldn’t fall asleep when I’m supposed to be watching him.”

“It’s not about that,” Eddie urges.

He hates the sad, cracked way Buck huffs in response. 

“C’mon.” Eddie doesn’t know when his hands moved, but the skin below Buck’s chin is even softer than his shoulders. Eddie’s knuckles trace the space where his chin and jaw meet, pushing slightly so Eddie can look at him again. “Evan. There is no one in this world I trust with my son more than you.”

Eddie traces the way Buck’s eyes search his face, begging for Eddie not to take back his words.

“But --”

“No.” Eddie steps even closer, until there’s hardly space between where Buck’s backed into the counter and where Eddie’s hands meet his. “I trust you, Evan. I trust you. That won’t change.”

Before Buck can turn his brain back online and even begin to consider an appropriate answer, the bathroom door squeaks open. Buck’s head falls against Eddie’s temple and it’s overwhelming, that familiar smell of Buck mixed with his own fabric softener, the steam of Christopher’s shampoo flooding the air. Eddie wants to drown in it.

“Is Bucky still here?” Christopher calls.

The exhale of breath Buck gives is shaky and vulnerable. It feels like he could break apart right in front of Eddie. He needs to straighten himself out, stop cradling Buck’s face and boxing him into his kitchen counter. When he finally steps back, he realizes Buck’s hands had been gripping his hips, anchoring himself to Eddie. He needs to snap out of it, needs to break the spell he’s under.

“Dad!”

“I’m here,” Buck calls back, swiftly stepping out of Eddie’s hold and turning toward Chris’ bedroom. He pauses though, in the doorway. He pauses and looks back at Eddie with wet eyes and a gentle, open face and says: “Thank you,” in a way he hopes conveys  _ I love you _ .

— — —

If it was a one-off, Eddie thinks he could cope with it. But when he comes home a few days later the bedroom door is cracked open and Eddie can hear the even, sleeping breaths of two people. It’s not altogether dissimilar from the first time. Buck’s stretched out on top of the duvet, letting Chris monopolize the fuzzy throw blanket. Buck looks younger like this. He looks like he hasn’t been put through the wringer more times than Eddie can count; He looks happy. 

Christopher’s glasses have been carefully removed and set safely away from their bodies, just like last time. But the book has joined it instead of crowding against his son’s chest. The detail that really gets Eddie though, the thing that makes him feel he’s been winded and trampled upon is the careful hold Buck has on Chris’ hand. They’re just as close as last time, but Buck’s wrapped his palm around one of Chris’ hands, has it pulled close and purposefully against his heart. 

Eddie thinks if he took a picture of it he could never look away. And it’s tempting, so tempting, but then Buck’s breath hitches and Eddie sees the uneven way his chest rises and falls, how his hand twitches briefly. He can see the moment when Buck’s hand finally tightens around Christopher’s and he pulls it up softly, letting both his hands encase the smaller one. 

Eddie must make some sound because Buck’s eyes flutter open and find Eddie’s across the room. He isn’t sheepish or flustered like last time. 

“I’m tired,” Eddie states stupidly. 

“Some come to bed.” It sounds simple rolling off Buck’s tongue. An invitation to his own bed. Where his son and Buck are currently crowded together. “Stop overthinking,” Buck yawns. “We don’t have to be anywhere for hours.”

Eddie is a weak willed individual. He sheds his jacket and toes off his shoes. His feet draw him closer to the bed and he doesn’t stop. 

It’s too easy. It’s too natural to ease into bed behind Christopher and see Buck blinking back at him. Every last nerve in his body is lighting up and screaming. His heart is doing flips against his rib cage. 

Buck reaches out with the arm pillowed beneath his head. When his fingers graze Eddie’s temple and the short flyaway hairs there, his body settles. When Buck says  _ go to sleep, Eds _ there’s nothing he can do but fall. Buck’s hand is still resting against his forehead like a brand. Eddie’s eyes close under Buck’s gentle touch. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I will die on the hill of using s' instead of s's. no, i will not be taking any counter arguments at this time


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is so much longer than the others, and the last one most likely will be too. And I will finish this soon I just gotta not die during midterms the next week or so.  
> I’m still only posting these at 2 am because imagine have a functional sleep schedule ... could not be me

The way Buck is suddenly always busy and bouncing suspiciously happy around the station does not go unnoticed. 

He’s been back for three weeks and he’s still ecstatic. Wiping down truck doors and mopping shower stalls has never felt so good. 

He’s drunk with excitement after their first few calls and how Bobby’s beaming at him, controlled but clearly happy with Buck’s ability to jump back in. 

Most of all he likes being back with his family and the way Hen and Chim’s banter bounces off the walls. How Bobby’s cooking pulls at his gut, leaving him giddy with anticipation for the meal. Eddie’s quiet focus on crossword puzzles he’ll never finish between calls. 

He missed everything. Even the achy feeling washing over him after a tough call is a welcomed alternative to the funnel of self-pit the crushed leg and pulmonary embolism left him to drown in. 

He’s happy, okay. Even if Chris pouts when Buck’s shifts start interfering with their lego and video game time. He’s so happy to have his family back. 

Everyone notices, it’s hard not to. 

“It’s unnerving.” Hen narrows her eyes at him over the dinner table. 

“What happened to him? I never thought I’d say it, but this almost makes me miss the Buck 1.0 stories.”

“You wound me, Chim.” But, okay, Buck agrees. This dopey, smiling at nothing attitude is foreign and weird. Not bad weird, or funny haha weird, just. _Different_. 

Buck would rather recount his exploits than tell everyone about how Eddie’s breathing is so steady and grounding when he sleeps. And that Eddie never comments on the fact he and Chris were napping in Eddie’s bed instead of the guest room. Or that it keeps happening, even since he returned to work. 

Mushy-Gushy Buck is unsettling. He misses Hoe-Buck. Hoe-Buck was simple and did not reflexively turn the TV down after nine p.m. when Chris crawls into bed, or spends his down time thinking about how should do laundry after shift, because their clean towels in the bathroom are going scarce. And Holy Shit. Buck’s crush is so massive and disgusting 

Why did no one tell him this? His feelings must be visible from space, god. For all Hen and Chim tease, Buck can tell they’re happy, genuinely happy for him, when he recounts stories from his days off trying taking Christopher to Disney but getting lost in Anaheim and buying $15 nosebleed seats for the Ducks game instead. They aren’t even surprised when they realize Eddie wasn’t with him and Chris.

Buck needs to sit down. Or run five miles to get his body to turn his brain off. 

“This is horrible,” he says aloud, forgetting his audience and foregoing any explanation. 

Bobby’s pinning glance across the table makes Buck freeze. “This better not be about my cooking.”

“I think Buckaroo is having a coming to Jesus moment,” Hen snorts. 

“Or his first thought” Chim supplies. 

Buck forces himself to act normal, act calm and steady. Definitely not acting as frenzied and live-wire jumpy as his heart and mind feel. 

— — — — — 

Buck really tries to keep his composure when they’re changing in the locker room at the end of their shifts, and he casually mentions going to Maddie’s for dinner. Eddie’s shoulder tense momentarily. His voice is faux calm when he talks.

“Oh?”

Buck’s heart hurts even more when Eddie corners him in the parking lot once everyone else has cleared out. “You’re still coming home tonight, right?” Buck stops the stream of _YesYesYes_ and _always_ threatening to pour out his mouth. 

And when did his throat get so dry and his voice so low. His cheeks start coloring after saying “I promise” and Eddie’s mouth does that weird scrunched up movement in response before smoothing out his face completely. 

— — — — — 

Maddie’s greeting is a judgemental raise of one eyebrow. He doesn’t understand how she does that, the automatic ability to read Buck. And also the eyebrow movement, that would be a cool party trick probably. 

But he doesn’t want to get a quick snap of Maddie’s wrist against his forearm that says _shut up_ and _you’re stupid_ and a thousand other things that only a sibling can say without inflicting actual pain, so he sidesteps Maddie and heads for the kitchen to pull out plates and silverware mechanically. 

— — — — — 

Buck’s honestly surprised that Maddie restrains herself enough until to make it halfway through dinner before commenting on Buck’s obvious crises. 

He hates how calculating Maddie can be sometimes. Like she’s the best, obviously, and the sweetest, most selfless person Buck has ever known, but she’s still his sister. And siblings are too good at being embarrassing. They know too much. Anyone who has seen Buck cry over a math test, vomit all over the Hershey Park comet, and knows about how he accidentally elbowed his freshman year homecoming date in the nose when she leaned in for a kiss is extremely dangerous. The amount of things Maddie knows about Buck is like handing the nuclear codes to a child and saying _okay, just don’t press that button_. It’s futile. 

“I’m surprised you have a free night. I feel like I haven’t seen you in forever.”

This is a lie. Buck went shoe shopping with Maddie and Chim three days ago. And lunch at an overpriced smoothie bar two days before that. And she just FaceTimed him last night when her garbage disposal rumbled in a “suspicious” way after dropping a lime peel down there. 

“You sure he’ll be alright without you for a night?”

The nonchalant way Maddie tacks on the last question is familiar. It’s the tone she’d use after finding out Buck had cut out before his last class of the day in high school, or borrowed their dad’s car without asking to drink room temperature natty daddies with Ryan Willis from trigonometry. Or cut class and borrowed his dad’s car to dry hump Ryan Willis from fifth period trigonometry in the backseat. 

“I’m sure Chris is fine.” It’s spaghetti night. He always likes spaghetti night. It’s the only thing Eddie can cook without setting the house on fire or risking a mini salmonella outbreak. 

He doesn’t know whose sake it’s for when he repeats himself. “He’s fine.”

“I wasn’t talking about Christopher.”

And, _ohhh_. Oh no. But Buck is cool. He’s calm, he’s collected. He’s had 29 years of practice. 

“Oh, Eddie?”

“Gee, Evan, is there another eligible bachelor whose spare bedroom you happen to live in?”

“You’re so _embarrassing_.”

“I’m just surprised. You spend what, 50 hours a week together at work, and then you go home and spend every other waking moment with him. Even Hen and Chim aren’t that codependent.”

Hen and Chim have also not had very mind blowing sex that they mutually agreed to never speak of again. But, that’s just Buck’s opinion. 

“I care about him, ya know.”

Maddie’s eyes soften at then. “I know, Evan. And you deserve to be happy. I’m just worried.”

“What’s there to worry about?”

“Buck.” There’s that sweet and worried look upon Maddie’s face again. 

“You obviously care for each other.”

“I know. I just said I did —”

“But what’s going to happen down the road? What if you meet someone you want to settle down with? What if Eddie does?”

It shouldn’t make Buck’s chest feel so tight and his throat suddenly dry and thick with emotions. He doesn’t want to settle down with some hypothetical person. And he definitely doesn’t want Eddie to. The thought of it makes the blood rush to his head. 

How would that even work? He’d have to move out. Whoever Eddie brought home wouldn’t want Buck slinking around and taking up space in the guest room. They wouldn’t want Buck monopolizing all that time with Chris, with Eddie. 

He feels sick to his stomach even tossing the idea around his head. Logically, Buck knows this isn’t a concern for the immediate future. Buck hasn’t been on a date since those first couple months after he met Eddie, and it’s not like any of those connections ever stuck. Eddie’s not too far off from that. He went out with Christopher’s teacher, but it wasn’t serious. They only went on a couple dates before Eddie shrugged the whole thing off. 

The point is, Buck would know if Eddie was going out with anyone. They live together, when would Eddie even have the time to sneak out and start some illicit tryst?

“I don’t know why you’re even asking me that.”

“You can’t be serious, Evan.”

“It’s not like that will happen any time soon. Neither of us are seeing anyone else.” 

That last word came out of nowhere. Buck promptly turns bright red after that, making Maddie smirk. _Oh_ , Buck thinks, this was his sister’s plan all along. She’s backing him into this corner as a trick. 

“Have you talked about that?”

“No, C’mon, Mads. Why would we do that?”

“Because you’re best friends. Who live together and spend all your free time practically raising Eddie’s son together.”

“Exactly, we’re _friends_.”

“Friends who conveniently stopped dating other people once you moved in together.”

“I didn’t _move in_ , it’s just temporary.”

“Uh huh, sure.”

The pained groan pushed out of Buck’s mouth doesn’t even begin to encompass his resentment towards Maddie and her stupidly in touch emotional radar. 

“Look, it’s not like we’re —” and holy shit Buck is only digging his grave deeper and deeper, isn’t he? God should really strike Buck down for ever being born and having the ability to open his mouth and subsequently using that ability to say shit like this. 

He doesn’t even know where that thought was going. They’re not what? Together? That’s a cop out. They don’t toe the line of friendship or something more very well. 

The way Buck and Eddie curl up in the master bedroom is a little too comfortable. Even if Eddie’s son is between them. Buck doesn’t know if that fact makes the situation better or worse. 

But they aren’t really together. Buck would know if they were together. Or if Eddie really had feelings for him that way. Buck would _know_. 

“Wanna finish that sentence, Evan?”

“Can’t we just finish our meal and talk about normal things. Did you see that the Dodgers won their wildcard game.”

“Did they?”

“And there’s a recall on romaine lettuce, so you should probably stop eating Caesar salads for a while.”

“Sure.”

“The Mediterranean restaurant by the station is closing down?”

He doesn’t know how Maddie can become any less impressed. 

“Can you at least acknowledge there’s something strange about your relationship with Eddie. You practically live at his house.”

And oh, yeah. That. 

“I told you. It was because rehabbing my leg alone in my apartment was driving me insane. And Eddie needed someone to help watch Chris.” For the two weeks Carla was on vacation. When Eddie could have easily called his Abuela or aunt. Maybe even the teenage babysitter who lives two houses over. 

“But you’re not in physical therapy anymore.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You’re even back at work.”

“Right.”

“And Chris started his new school year weeks ago.”

Buck wants to bury himself alive. “Am I being that transparent. Does everyone know?” 

Maddie does that judgemental and pleased sip of her wine again. It’s not a cool trick anymore. It is a very mean tool his sister utilizes too often and only with Buck at the receiving end. 

“Well, clearly not _everyone_.” And what the fuck does that mean?

“We need to talk about literally anything else.” Buck stabs the scraps of his grilled chicken a little too forcefully. “How’s Chimney?”

Maddie scrunches her nose. She knows deflection when she sees it, but Buck can see the sappy, love drunk tone seep into every inch of her body when Chim’s name is mentioned. 

“Howie’s good. He’s so good.” And okay, Buck does not need to know that. “We have tickets for an 80s drive-in film festival.”

It’s almost as domestic as him and Eddie renting every Ocean’s movie to show Chris, after Buck casually mentioned they’re his favorite. 

“Isn’t that sweet.”

“Don’t give me that tone, Evan.”

“What tone? There’s no tone. I’m just happy for my sister. You’re moving on, you’re happy.” It’s all Buck’s ever wanted for Maddie. He hated when she moved to Boston for Doug, not just because she left him behind, but because she was leaving part of herself behind. 

“Now who’s being a sap?”

Two can play at this game. 

“Speaking of accidental roommates…”

Maddie gives him the quick slap that time. 

— — — — — 

Buck isn’t avoiding Eddie, but he can’t get his conversation with Maddie off his mind. Maybe he is being too clingy, maybe he’s holding Eddie back from starting a new relationship and building something permanent . 

He’s not avoiding Eddie, but he maybe responds a little too quickly and a little too enthusiastically to Athena’s dinner invite the next week. 

— — — — — 

“I’m glad you’re back where you used to be.” Bobby still edges around conversations regarding the truck incident, but Buck can’t blame him. The way Bobby feels responsible is eerily similar to Buck’s feelings about Christopher and the Tsunami. It’s as illogical as it is unshakable. 

“I’m good,” Buck assures. “I’m better. I promise no more throwing up blood over your backyard.”

Athena chastises him for that. 

“You’re welcome here whenever, don’t be stupid. I’m sure May and Harry would certainly appreciate having all their Buck time back.”

Buck winces slightly. He hasn’t spent as much time with everyone as he used to. It’s hard not to feel somewhat guilty about that. 

“Sorry, I guess I’ve been giving all my time to Chris lately.”

Athena tuts again. “Don’t apologize for loving that boy. It’s admirable.”

“I don’t do it for that.”

“And that’s what makes you you Buck.”

“It’s true,” Bobby agrees. “You give a lot to everyone else. We just don’t want you to give too much away. You’ve been through hell the past year. You need to focus on yourself, not just everyone else.”

Buck tries to stammer out disagreement, which is swiftly cut off by Bobby. 

“Don’t disagree. I know you love living with Eddie, but I need you to think about yourself, too. For once, do whatever you need to do to feel better, Buck. Don’t make any excuses to please others.”

Athena’s eyes are trained on Buck, but he knows she’s nodding in silent agreement with Bobby. 

Bobby isn’t telling him to move out, move on. But it gives Buck pause. He hasn’t given himself the chance to be independent since the accident. Maybe that’s a bad thing. It doesn’t feel like a bad thing, but maybe it is. 

“We want you to be okay, Buck. That’s all we’ve ever wanted.” Buck hates how easily Bobby’s words get to him. The way Bobby treats him is how he always wished his parents would. It’s loving and embracing with just the perfect balance of concern and strictness. Bobby doesn’t want Buck to fuck up, but he won’t love him any less for doing so. 

His sniffly cries over Athena and Harry’s fudge brownies is mildly embarrassing. 

“I think I owe Harry a game of Madden,” Buck shrugs once his plate is clean and his eyes drier than before. Bobby and Athena are loading the dishwasher and having one of those married-couple-magic conversations with just a look between each other. 

“He’s in his room. But just a couple games, he doesn’t need any more reasons to oversleep before school.”

“Aye, aye Captain.” 

— — — — — 

Bobby’s right, though. Buck is stalling and it’s probably not healthy. For him or for Eddie. 

“I need to go back to my own place.” Buck admits. 

He doesn’t miss the soft and sad eyes Bobby gives him where he’s leaning against the doorway, Buck’s body halfway out the door. He knows Athena is listening from the kitchen, but he can’t bring himself to mind. She’s seen him at far worse than this, the faint blood stain on the patio stone is proof of that. 

It doesn’t feel like their last conversation on a similar topic, when Buck realized yeah, maybe it was weird he still lived in Abby’s house months later. The guy trapped in the ATM certainly agreed. 

Somehow this situation might be even more complicated. 

Leaving Abby’s apartment was one sided. She was gone, all Buck needed was the final push to leave as well. It was a mental adjustment of letting himself finally acknowledge Abby wasn’t coming back, that there was no sense in waiting around a second longer. His new apartment was supposed to be all about his freedom, his resilience.

The apartment doesn’t feel like that now. It’s big and empty in a way that makes Buck feel alone instead of free. Everything is nice and neat. It’s unlived in, at least for the last few months. 

Buck doesn’t know what leaving Eddie’s will mean. He doesn’t want distance like he did with Abby’s memory. He wants more, so much more. And maybe that’s an even better reason to leave. 

When Bobby clasps a hand on Buck’s shoulder, it’s comfortable and paternal in a manner that twists Buck up in a bittersweet, red rimmed eye sort of way. 

“You’re going to be okay, Buck. I promise you.” It’s not much, but it lessens the weight pressed against his chest.

— — — — — 

Eddie, strangely enough, takes the news worse than Chris. “You don’t have to go,” he stresses. It’s a weird mirror of that first night together when Buck was so, so tired of the nightmares and the memories of insistent red-blue lights and the numbness of his leg, the salty and bitter taste of water flooding his mouth and choking out his pleas to find Christopher. 

“Don’t feel like you have to go.”

Buck has no clue what to say to that. He’s not ready to pour his heart out through his mouth. Not like this, torn between two places and Eddie’s bittersweet urges. 

“I’m not leaving right away. How about this: have Abuela take Chris one night. We’ll have some drinks before I go. It’ll be one last hurrah before you get your spare bedroom back. Maybe the next tenet will actually pay rent.” Eddie’s frown deepens and Buck can’t stand it. “C’mon Eds, just a couple drinks. I’m buying.”

— — — — — 

The bar was a bad idea. It’s the same one as before, which Buck firmly ignores and tamps down any feelings about. 

It’s only between a couple weeks since their stilted conversation about Buck packing up, but nothing’s changed. 

The precipice they’re edging towards is still unbearable. They’re still in a stalemate. Buck doesn’t really want to move out, and Eddie is reluctantly letting his duffel bag be repacked and his hair gel and body wash pulled from the bathroom. Their bathroom. 

“This is more than a couple drinks by my count.”

Eddie’s drinking rum. Why the fuck is he drinking rum? The only liquor Buck can even remember seeing him drink was the seemingly endless bottle of whiskey Hen bought for Chim’s birthday party, which unsurprisingly went south very quickly. 

Buck traded beer for vodka two drinks ago and that’s probably a worse self prescribed dose of pain. He can feel the impending roil of his stomach in the morning, his body protesting and reminding him he’s not 19 and chugging plastic fifths of bottom shelf liquor haphazardly mixed with dollar store lemon-lime soda will not end well. He won’t wake up the next morning without an angry weight behind his eyes. 

They aren’t touching, not exactly, but Buck can feel the heat of Eddie’s arm beside his. He wants so badly to lean in and soak in the warmth of Eddie, the salty pinewood scent of his cologne. Buck can smell an undertone of sandalwood and it renders him speechless for a second. Buck knows that smell, it’s his. It’s the body wash Buck uses, the blue bottle tucked in the top right corner of Eddie’s shower. The one they both use. At the house they both live in, at least for one more night. 

Buck’s brain is working overtime tonight. 

Eddie clears his throat. He won’t meet Buck’s pressing stare. “Do you ever…”

There’s an unusual blush crawling up Eddie’s neck. Buck hasn’t been able to stop wanting to bite down and mark up that stretch of skin since his third drink. 

Eddie’s eyes are dark and dangerous when he angles his body back toward Buck. 

“Do you ever think about. About, uh. The first night we met.” The _too_ in _do you think about it, too?_ is left unsaid, but Buck hears it anyway. 

This is a bad idea. Catastrophic, ten car pile-up in sleet and rain bad. Tsunami and earthquake bad 

Buck downs the rest of his drink.

“Yes.”

— — — — — 

Buck doesn’t care about the consequences. He wants Eddie’s hands all over him again. He wants whatever Eddie will give him. 

It’d be better this time, Buck knows it would be. It wouldn’t be thoughtless physicality. It’d be Eddie taking care of him, _always_ taking care of him.

Before Buck can push that door open and throw inhibition to the wind, someone is looming next to Buck’s shoulder. 

Buck does not remember texting Chim, nor does he remember asking him for a ride. But he’s certainly here and shooting Buck a funny look. 

“You texted Maddie. Not me.”

And aw, shit. Buck said that out loud, didn’t he?

“I think that’s enough, Buckaroo. Close out your tab, I’ll drive you home.” The look Chim gives Eddie behind Buck’s back is forceful and warning. 

“That’s no fun. You’re no fun, Howie.”

Chim only clasps Buck’s shoulder. “Yep, definitely time to go.”

— — — — — 

“How can you be over six feet tall and a lightweight?”

Chim is too delighted when Maddie starts her mother-hen act on Buck, whose crumpled position in the backseat is a pretty good reflection of his mental and emotional state. 

“Buck.”

“You didn’t have to drive me home, Mads.”

“Technically I’m driving.” Chim meets his eyes in the rearview window.

Buck is not acknowledging that. 

“Look, it’s late and —”

“And you’re my brother and I will feel responsible if you trip up the stairs getting to bed and you crack another rib or re-injure your leg.” And there’s really no point in arguing against that, is there?

— — — — — 

Buck doesn’t mean to, but he passes out and wakes up to his face squished against seat belt stitching and a foggy window. His neck is already starting to stiffen up and he doesn’t there’s not a sweat belt shaped imprint on his right cheek. 

“Up and at ‘em, Buckley.”

“Where are we?”

“Home. C’mon.” Chim’s shoving the backseat door open and making grabby hands at the seat belt release button. 

The tension in the air is tight when Buck, sleepily and stupidly, his words sliding into needy and nagging, huffs: “No we’re not. Wanna go _home_.”

He only got a few dizzy glances before his eyes instinctively shut again, but the 24 hour convenience store kitty corner from the parking lot is not supposed to be there. 

“Pretty sure this is your apartment, man.” Buck must pull a funny face because Chimney’s expression feels serious and a little concerned when his mouth opens next. 

“You know, that lightweight comment was only a joke, Buck.”

And, uh. Unintelligible silence is not a sufficient answer for Chim, apparently. The pouty smile Buck shoots him doesn’t do the trick either. Maddie’s only snickering in the passenger seat. Absolutely zero help. So much for sibling solidarity. Boyfriend should not trump brother. 

Buck groans again, this time letting his head drop into his hands and rubbing sweaty palms against his irritated, heavy eyelids. 

He can feel Maddie’s motherly stare practically boring holes into him, amusement turned to concern. Her tone isn’t much better when she stops worrying her lip between her teeth to peer into the backseat. “Sheesh, Evan. How much did you drink?”

Buck moans. She’s seen him at way worse, bandaged up after keggers that spun out of control, motorcycle crashes and loopy conversations muddled by emergency room sedatives. 

He’s not plastered. He'd like to make that assertion. He’s only mildly drunk, sidled on that edge of sleepy and sappy where everything is a little fuzzy and he starts to think and feel everything a bit too much. 

Fuck he wants his bed. He wants —

“Wanna go _home_.” He repeats, hoping the incessant tone of love drunk desperation will let him get his way. 

Maddie and Chim have a silent conversation with their eyes. It’s the same shit Athena and Bobby pull. 

“We’re already at your building, Buckaroo.”

“Ugh.” He knows that. No one’s getting it. “Not _here_.”

“Oh,” Maddie says. “Oh, okay.”

Buck is purposefully keeping his eyes closed. He can’t say something like that and see the way Maddie’s expression will soften before searching Buck’s face and knowing more than he’ll ever be capable of conveying.

“We’re already at your building, Evan. You can go to Eddie’s in the morning, yeah?” 

“Don’t wanna wait.” 

Chim tries to stifle a laugh, but not well enough for Buck not to hear, making him frown even more. 

“Okaaaay. Definitely time for bed, Buckaroo. And maybe some water?”

— — — — — 

The first sign of trouble — or really the sixth or seventh considering the performance in the car — is Maddie’s insistence to walk him up to his door. There’s not one drop of subtlety when Maddie suddenly needs to pee, and could she please use his bathroom, only for a second, she’ll be fast. 

He’s already stripped down to pajama pants and a half-torn tee shirt when Maddie reappears. 

“So, interesting night, huh?”

Buck groans automatically. Pavlov’s suffering, or however the expression goes.

“You can save the lecture, mom. I know what I’m doing.”

The unimpressed flare of his sister’s nostrils is wholly unsurprising. She clearly waited to have this conversation without Chimney, even though Buck knows she’ll tell him about it the second they’re back in the car together.

“Really? Because it looked like you were willing to risk tanking your relationship with your best friend by winding up in bed.” 

It’s a Buck 1.0 move. Actually, it’s probably worse. It’s not a random person this time. It’s his best friend. His closest friend. It’s _Eddie_. 

Whatever complicated expression of stillness that flashes on Buck’s face can only be attributed to the cocktails settling uncomfortably in his gut. He doesn’t drink much anymore, only the few beers him and Eddie will share after a bad call at work or a very frustrating round of googling math solutions so Chris can finish his homework. That’s why the bar, upon many other reasons, was a horrible idea doomed from the get go. 

Buck’s mouth is firmly shut. They already had that conversation about feelings, and how Buck is avoiding his. 

“Oh,” Maddie preens. “I see how it is.”

“I don’t think I do.”

“No, no. This makes so much more sense. Total and complete sense.”

Buck waits her out, suddenly very intrigued by the blinking crosswalk signs he can see from the living room window, and the dust that’s collected on his toaster oven. 

“You’ve already slept with Eddie.” It’s not even a question. That’s how painfully obvious Buck must be.

“No, I haven’t. That would be dumb. Really, really fucking dumb.”

“And yet?”

Head in his hands, Buck finally hits his breaking point. “What the fuck am I doing?” 

He wants Eddie, this much is clear. But it’s nothing like before when Buck was hungry for touch because he was handsome and alone beside Buck at the bar. It’s nothing like when Buck wanted him because of the heavy, dirty way Eddie levered his weight to pin him to his car and pant that he wanted nothing more than to fuck Buck. 

The amount and intensity of what Buck wants now makes him nauseated. He definitely wants Eddie against him, inside him, huge and just as desperate and filthy as before. 

But now Buck has seen Eddie sleep addled and so goddamn sweet in the morning while he gets Chris ready for school. How he beams at Buck when realizes Chris’ lunch is already packed and waiting on the table. 

He’s seen how Eddie’s body melts into his mattress with his son beside him and the tips of his fingers grazing the soft skin of Buck’s inner wrist. 

He’s seen Eddie in every way. Grimy and soot covered after a call. Furious and bottled up with frustration. He’s seen the nails Eddie worries with his teeth when he can’t calm Chris down or make school and work schedules line up. The way he likes to fold his towels into thirds, but the cloth napkins — on the rare occasion they use them — into quarters. He puts half the plates away, then the cups, then the silverware, the lastly the rest of the plates when emptying the dishwasher. 

He’s seen so many little mundane things that he’ll never be able to forget. 

Worst of all, he’s seen Eddie’s open and limitless trust in Buck. It’s everything he wants. 

It’s not about sex and Buck doesn’t know how to handle that. 

It’s too much. 

— — — — — 

Laying in bed stripped down to his boxer and a tattered tee, Buck realizes how transparent Maddie’s intervention was. Buck still lives with Eddie, at least he was supposed to for this last night. 

God, Buck really needs to turn his brain off. It’s Eddie’s house. Not _theirs_. But he wants. He wants so much he’s afraid it will consume him. 

When he wakes up the next morning with no shift on the docket, he makes a hasty breakfast and promptly spends the rest of the afternoon wallowing in bed. The only break he takes is to order takeout and text Eddie that he’ll swing by tomorrow instead of today. 

— — — — — 

Buck doesn’t even get the opportunity to feel awkward about the bar and their potential relapse because when he drives to Eddie’s and lets himself in, Eddie is running around like a chicken with his head cut off. 

“Bad time?”

Eddie groans. “Understatement of the year.”

“Isn’t Carla coming today?” 

“She is. Or _was_. I don’t know. Chris came into my room last night to tell me he threw up. And then threw up on me.”

“Ouch. You don’t have to blame your son on your inability to hold your liquor.” Eddie’s eyes cut to him blankly. Okay, too soon to laugh at and joke about, clearly. 

“I feel like I’ve washed every surface in this house.” Which yeah, Buck’s nose wrinkled when he came in. There’s an offending odor of bleach, vomit, and Clorox. Lots of Clorox. 

“Should I take work off? Fuck, I should take this shift off, right?”

Buck doesn’t know if he’s ever seen Eddie this frantic. He’s wiping the kitchen counters down with a very, very aggressive nature. He looks rumpled and weary and like his body, between the hangover and the sudden intrusion of the stomach flu, is about to break down in protest. 

“Eddie.” He’s moved on the swiffering, an activity Buck never pictured could be so menacing. “Eddie, hey. Hey.”

His shoulders are hunched and Buck can see how tired he is with his body punched up defensively. He doesn’t like asking for help, everyone knows this. It’s most of the reasoning behind the way he chose to introduce Eddie to Carla. 

“Eddie, c’mon.” His head is still cast down and avoiding Buck’s gaze. “Hey, hey. It’s fine. Let’s call Bobby. If you wanna stay home, he’ll let you. If you want to go to work and get a break from,” Buck gestures widely to the mess covering the floor and counters. “If you want to come in and give yourself a moment to get out of your head and direct all the focus, which is kind of scary by the way, to something more productive than scrubbing down every surface possible, Bobby will let you.”

He can see the tension easing out of Eddie’s body. “Fuck.” 

“Is Chris in bed?” Eddie nods. “Okay, then go shower.” He starts pushing on Eddie’s shoulders, bullying him away from the cleaning supplies. “And I’ll check on Chris. Bring him some ginger ale and toast and crackers.” Buck knows they have this in the fridge. He bought it as a precaution when Carla mentioned a bug going around at school. “Maybe he can keep something down.”

Eddie must not have any fight left in him because he lets Buck herd him all the way into the bathroom, lets him twist the shower on to just the right spot he’s had the practice of finding. He pulls out a towel, folded dutifully into thirds, and shoves it into the center of Eddie’s chest. “Don’t fight it,” he warns. 

— — — — — 

Chris is still sleeping but Buck can see where the sheets have been thrown on hastily, the fitted corners stretching wonkily. Buck doesn’t want to directly address that he knows they’re the back up sheets instead of the dark blue, star patterned ones they usually use. Buck also doesn’t like how small Chris looks like this, pale and pained. 

Carla finds him like that, hand rubbing small circles in Chris’ hair in an attempt to soothe him. 

“Hi, Buckaroo. Didn’t expect to see you here.” 

Buck doesn’t even have to look to see her brows raised in a way that’s not judgemental, but shows that she knows exactly what’s playing out here. Buck was supposed to leave yesterday. He wasn’t supposed to be curled up next to Chris and doting on him with a wet washcloth to keep a temperature down, foods to settle his stomach after the flu’s abuse. 

All Buck can do is shrug. Guilty as charged. 

“Eddie?”

“In the shower. He looks like hell.”

Carla’s lips purse momentarily. “I’ll take over for you here, go make sure Eddie isn’t worrying himself into the ground.”

Buck doesn’t have to be told twice. 

— — — — — 

Eddie still looks like shit when Buck shoulders himself into his bedroom, but the tension has started seeping out of his shoulders and the worry lines in his forehead are slowly beginning to smooth. 

“What’s the verdict?”

Buck has to smother a laugh when Eddie jolts out of whatever offline state he’d entered. 

“I’ll have to hurry. But, I guess I could use a ride. If you’re willing.”

“Willing my ass. Get your ass up and dressed. I’ll make eggs and toast, but you have five minutes.”

— — — — — 

No one bats an eye when they show up together, but Buck can feel Bobby’s focus on him when he joins everyone upstairs. 

“Move go okay?”

Buck tries not to flush. “Temporarily postponed.”

“Eddie okay with that?”

Hen nearly chokes on her water when she tries to snort out a laugh. Chim isn’t much better. 

“Do you even have to ask that question, Cap?”

It hasn’t even been forty-eight hours since Chim shuffled Buck out of his back seat, which means the whole world has probably already heard Buck’s embarrassing exploits. 

Hen looks rearing to go when the alarm goes off and breaks the moment. This has got to be divine intervention, maybe Buck should take Bobby up on one of his open invites for church. 

— — — — — 

He’s hardly been back in his apartment for two weeks when thirty feet of dirt swallows Eddie whole, and Buck can’t breathe. Not until he can see Eddie and feel his pulse jumping beneath his fingers and his chest rising and falling as it should. He doesn’t care about anything else or how cold and slick the mud is between his fingers as he digs, and digs, and digs, helpless to do anything else but wear his body to the bone trying to get Eddie back. Needing to get Eddie back.

Something breaks within Buck when Eddie stumbles through the crowd and collapses against him and Bobby. Buck can’t let go. He doesn’t even think about the possibility of that. 

— — — — — 

Eddie’s first words are hoarse and asking for ice chips and whatever is cold and clear enough to help his throat unfurl itself. But his second words are panicked. “Where’s —”

Bobby cuts him off with a steady hand against his bicep. It’s a welcome contrast to how bright and sterile the hospital room surrounding them is. 

“Christopher is fine. He’s at home with Buck. He’s okay.”

Eddie croaks out some kind of agreement before promptly passing the fuck out.

— — — — — 

Carla’s taken Chris to the park when Eddie schleps through the front door. He weaseled his way into being discharged. Much to Bobby and his doctor’s displeasure. He’s already anticipating the talking to his Abuela will give him once she hears. 

But none of that seems to matter when he peeks through his bedroom door and lets his work bag fall to the ground with a tired whoosh of air. 

Buck’s in his bed. Alone this time. 

The sheets are pulled up around him, tight and close, like he needs something to hold onto. He looks exhausted, hair starting to curl and the worry lines on his forehead prominent. 

Eddie’s the one who swam through nearly forty feet of underground water, but Buck doesn’t look much better. 

Eddie pleads temporary insanity for stripping off his clothes that smell too sterile and wrinkled with the unmistakable scent of hospital. He pulls on fresh boxers but foregoes a shirt before settling on the bed and running one hand through the hair matted against Buck’s forehead. 

His voice is sleepy and sated when he starts to stir. “Eddie?”

“Evan.”

“You’re here?”

“I’m here.” Buck’s smile is sunny and content in reply. 

“I stole your bed. Got too sleepy.”

“S’okay. I’m tired too.” Too much poking and prodding in the hospital. He doesn’t like the constant presence of residents making their rounds and flipping the pages of his chart a little too noisily for the middle of the night. 

It’s familiar when Buck pulls the sheets back and shuffles closer, telling him “So get into bed,” like it’s the easiest thing in the goddamn world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Give the people (me) what they want (an episode involving hockey). And Jeff Carter be a guest star you cowards. Who knows how to yearn about a best friend better than that bitch!! I’d even settle for Doughty or Quick. But not the Ducks fuck Getzlaf and fuck Kessler too  
> Also shout out to Hershey Park even though I too almost threw up after one of the newer roller coasters.  
> If u commented I love u and thank u :))


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Me last chapter: I’m not gonna post in the middle of the night again  
> Me at 3 am rn: hi :)
> 
> This ended up being so much longer than expected oops. 
> 
> But this is the last chapter!! And what a wild ride it has been writing this while procrastinating my 9000 discussion boards waiting for me on canvas.

They don’t address it directly, but it’s obvious to both of them that Buck’s not leaving any time soon. They don’t talk about the bar either, about how close they were to crossing that un-friendlike line again. It’s not unimportant, but Buck can’t think of anything other than how cold Eddie was when he collapsed against him and how scared Buck was. 

Eddie’s sleeping like the dead once Buck peels himself out of bed and scrounges up dinner, carefully leaving a tinfoil covered plate in the fridge for Eddie next to the apple slices and carrots set aside for Christopher’s lunchbox. 

Chris wants to sleep in Eddie’s bed despite Buck’s reassurance that his dad is fine, he’s just tired and might need to rest more than normal. Buck excuses himself to the guest room this time. He needs to pull back and stop the achy, wobbly flood threatening to overtake him. Chris doesn’t crawl into Eddie’s bed much anymore because he’s getting older and wants to be more independent, but Buck can see how happy it makes both of them when it happens. 

The bed is lonely in the guest room and Buck can’t sleep. His brain won’t turn off, but he knows he can’t think about reeling the line up and seeing the frayed edges where Eddie’s had been purposefully snipped, how quickly a pit opened in his heart and sucked all the breath out of him. 

Bobby’s given both of them the next few days off, even though Buck protested he was fine and ready to go back. He wasn’t the one who nearly drowned in underground water by being brave and admiral and so reckless and stupid and — Buck has a thousand other words he could use to finish that sentence. 

He focuses on the house instead. He sweeps then dusts then pulls the vacuum out before worrying that the sound will wake Eddie up. He puts Christopher’s Lego’s away, reorganizes his bookshelf in alphabetical order, then by size and color when that doesn’t soothe him. 

Buck does a dozen unnecessary chores because if he stops, he’ll never be able to come back from the memory of how cold Eddie was, how red and glassy his eyes were when they lazily followed the flashlight pushed into his periphery. Buck can’t revisit those minutes when he was so sure everyone else had given up. It might break something in him. Even though he knows Eddie’s only a wall away, breathing steadily and healthier than before. 

— — — 

Four days after Eddie comes back to work, Chim corners Buck in the kitchen. 

“I’d rather not talk about this, but Maddie says I need to invite you to dinner tomorrow night. Can you come?” 

Buck blinks back. Chim’s tone is uncharacteristically tight and serious, though Buck can sense the irritation lurking behind his eyes. Bobby’s watching them curiously. 

“Sure. What should I bring?”

“Anything to run me over with. Preferably something large and very heavy.”

And they call Buck the dramatic one.

— — — 

Maddie briefs him on the situation when Chim runs to the store for an ingredient Maddie has conveniently forgotten and puppy dog eyed her boyfriend into picking up for her. 

They’re not pseudo-accidental-roommates anymore and it makes Buck feel gooey and light when he sees how  _ happy _ it makes Maddie. She deserves this. Buck can’t stop how much it eases the part of his heart that’s been tight and fraught with worry since she left with Doug for Boston all those years ago. 

Maddie’s aggressively chopping carrots and green onions when she speeds through the explanation. “Albert’s coming over.”

“What,” Buck’s eyes snap to Maddie’s. “Who? Don’t tell me you’re setting me up again.”

A weird look glazes over Maddie’s eyes. “Okaaay, let’s try that again. Howie’s brother, Albert, is coming over.”

So, not a set up. 

Buck’s mouth twitches. “I didn’t know he had a brother.”

“He does. It’s a sore subject.”

“So, I’m here as…?”

Maddie doesn’t disguise her laugh. “A buffer, most likely. Howie looked like he was going to jump out of his skin at the prospect of a one-on-one dinner, so I volunteered you. It’s not like you’re busy.”

Buck frowns and Maddie pins him against the open fridge door with her eyes. “What? Did you have other plans tonight?”

Maddie’s cutting him off before Buck can stretch his mouth all the way open in protest. “Hanging out with Eddie does  _ not _ count.”

“Subtle.”

“Like a brick to the face, the Buckley family way.”

— — — 

Albert, who is apparently very young and very unwavering in his enthusiasm to see his big brother and by extension the States, particularly California, is nothing like Buck expected. He can see the way their noses slope in a similar curve, and the delicate way they both shuffle their forks around the food pushed to the corner of their plates. 

Buck wonders if Maddie and him share things like this, little traits that exist subconsciously but so sweetly tying them together. 

But they’re different in the big ways that matter. Buck can sense the tension rolling up Chim’s spine once his father mentioned. Albert’s more open to talking about him, but even Buck can sense whatever relationship Chim had with him tapered off years ago, though the feelings are fresh and dark blue-bruised where they’re worn on his sleeve. 

Maddie’s welcoming of Albert is a few degrees off of Chim’s, something that lingers through perfunctory opening drinks and a very stilted and one sided dinner 

“He doesn’t know how to talk to him,” Maddie whispers as they clear the dinner plates together. 

“They don’t know each other like we do. They never got the chance to.”

It breaks Buck’s heart a little bit to see how concerned and affected Maddie is by all this. 

“Well no one can be as great as us, right? But maybe they just need some time.” 

Maddie nods solemnly and pushes a pie tart into Buck’s hands, effectively ending the mid-game conference they set up over the sudsy kitchen sink. 

— — — 

“I need to ask you a favor,” Chimney sighs a week or so later. His face isn’t as pinched as before, but his erratic moods haven’t gone unnoticed by anyone in the station. Buck’s fairly certain Hen’s one mopey look away from staging an intervention. Bobby made his favorite food for lunch yesterday and even though Chim scarfed it down his mood didn’t lighten much afterwards. 

“Albert’s killing me,” he explains. “He’s a worse roommate than you were, a statement I never expected to make.”

Which, ouch. Buck only couch surfed for like, a week, two max, when his lease was in limbo. And that was almost two years ago. Buck cannot be held responsible for those actions.

Besides, Chim told Hen, and by extension everyone else, about Albert bringing some girl over in the middle of the night. Buck never did that. Leaving dirty laundry around the living room should not rival interrupting your brother's booty call.

“This is the worst buttering up I’ve ever heard.” Hen’s making no effort to disguise her eavesdropping. Buck’s not sure it even counts as eavesdropping if she’s blatantly inserting herself into the conversation.

“Please let Albert stay with you. He’s driving me insane, which is driving Maddie insane. So, if you think about it, you’re basically doing a favor for your sister.”

Hen rolls her eyes. Buck doesn’t need this much convincing, he was ready to say yes to whatever followed Chim’s request for a favor. 

“Sure, of course.” Buck doesn’t miss how quickly Chim’s face lights up and leads to hollering in satisfaction 

Before logistics can even be sorted out, Hen does what Hen does best, which is pin a too truthful accusation against Buck. 

“I’m not sure why you had to ask, Chim. It’s not like Buckaroo spends any time there.”

Buck’s face must be either ghostly white or tomato red based on the self satisfied smirk creeping up Hen’s face and Chim’s short snort. 

“You’re so embarrassing.” He whines. 

She’s not wrong though, that’s what sticks in Buck’s mind. He’s spent hardly three nights in his apartment since the well incident. And one of those nights involved Chris pipelining sugar and video games on Buck’s couch so Eddie could have a serious talk with his family about the stupidity of his actions and whatever else families are good at guilting you about. 

The only food he keeps there are things like pasta and frost-burned Eggo waffles, neither of which get much use. He thinks the salad dressing shoved in the side drawer might have expired by now, but he’s afraid to look. 

Hen is so smug over her coffee, but Buck can’t even rally enough for a weak, half-hearted protest.

“So Albert’s set to move in, yeah?” Chim’s hands clasp together too eagerly. “Perfect!” 

— — — 

Buck can’t pin down why he’s so nervous to bridge the topic with Eddie. He’s been eyeballing Buck suspiciously all through spaghetti night and the hour and a half of TV time Eddie stubbornly lets Chris have despite it being a weeknight. 

“Stop staring. You’re giving me the creeps.”

Eddie simply shrugs him off. “Just waiting for you to spill whatever’s twisting you up.”

Buck stops fiddling with the bead in his hand. (Maddie had been too pleased to hear Eddie’s spent their free nights lately teaching Buck how to play mancala and the weekends showing him the way to effectively power wash. He had to bite his tongue about him showing Chris and Eddie to adequately stitch a rip back together, correctly peel potatoes, and how to absolutely clean up in Clue.)

“So, you know Albert?” 

Eddie’s face twitches instinctively before forcibly smoothing out. 

“Sure,” he says slowly. “Chimney’s brother.”

“Right. Chim asked if Albert could stay with me for a few weeks. Just until he finds an apartment for himself.”

Eddie scrunches his mouth to the side. “Here?”

“Uh,” Buck splutters. “No, uh. At my apartment.”

Eddie looks lost. “What’d you say?”

“I said.” God, why does this feel hard. “I said yes.”

He doesn’t have to remind Eddie that his apartment is a loft with only one bed and a not very functional couch. Buck saying yes means giving his bed up to Albert, an action that requires Buck to most likely not be there, or sleep there, for at least three weeks. 

Not that it’ll be all that different from where they’re at now.

“Is that okay?”

Eddie rolls his eyes, thankfully making the leap in reasoning Buck hoped he would. “Don’t be stupid, Buck. You can stay here whenever. I — we want you here, promise.”

Buck’s heart swells automatically at that. He hopes the dopey smile he shoots back at Eddie conveys everything he doesn’t feel strong enough to say. Like _you don’t know what this means to me_. Like _thank_ _you_. Or _I love you_. 

— — — 

Albert found an apartment almost two and a half weeks ago, a fact both him and Buck ignore. 

Eddie desperately doesn’t want this domestic bubble to burst.

Buck spent Halloween inspecting Chris’ costume and parading him from house to house, hoisting him up on his hip when he noticed Christopher’s legs start to move slower than before. He does it in such a way that Chris never seems to mind. Buck never fails to gives Chris his freedom, but he’s always there to offer help whenever needed. It’s something that makes Eddie dizzy with a mix of feelings that can easily be summarized as  _ love _ and  _ want _ . 

Buck stays for Thanksgiving, too, and walks Eddie and Chim through making sides while he and Maddie handle the turkey. Eddie can sense how important this is to Buck. His enthusiasm is bountiful, but Eddie sees how tentative his smiles are, like he’s experiencing something foreign and unfamiliar. 

Eddie forces himself to squash down whatever desperate frustration crawls up his throat thinking about Buck getting anything less than the whole world. The way Buck beams at Christopher’s interpretive pie crust topper design only makes Eddie a little unsteady on his feet. 

The lazy way they fall onto the couch mid-afternoon to half watch football is familiar, is  _ right _ in a way that makes Eddie buzz with a feeling he doubts he could ever articulate. Buck has Chris tucked into his side, patiently answering questions about first downs and offensive linebackers, fielding questions he can’t answer to Chimney, who happily replies. 

When they drive home at the end of the night, Eddie says a silent prayer that he doesn’t have to look at the stretch of Buck’s dark brown-orange sweater anymore. It was distracting and looked soft and perfectly tight and — Eddie needs to focus on the stubborn way Chris is delaying bedtime and begging Buck to watch Charlie Brown with him again instead of being unabashedly thirsty for his best friend. 

— — — 

The months roll on slow and easy like that. Eddie remembers last year and how quick Buck was to throw the Christmas party together for everyone and how he never asked for credit or for anyone to show up for him. He remembers the sad and lost expression Buck shot him after Chris asked to spend Christmas with him. 

This year’s better. They both have shifts on Christmas Eve, but the holiday itself off, which makes Buck a shade too red with glee. 

Buck’s already run through his Christmas list for everyone in the station: medical books for Hen, museum passes for Karen and Denny, a Real Housewives of the 118 mug he custom made for Chim, a stack of cookbooks for Bobby and nice wine for Athena, matching ugly Christmas ornaments for May and Harry, and a whole slew of small things for Maddie. 

Buck’s pleasure and pride in each gift is cavity inducing. Eddie carefully doesn’t mention how much of his November paychecks he sets aside for these purchases. He knows Buck would shrug it off even if he did. 

He pointedly won’t tell Eddie about his gifts for Chris, but Eddie’s sure they’re more than Buck would ever need to do. He makes Buck promise not to get him anything excessive. But when there’s a new coffee maker on the counter after their Christmas Eve shift, Buck shrugs and completely fails to poker-face the goofy way his eyes light up in response to Eddie’s thank you’s. 

No one in Eddie’s family even blinks when they come over Christmas morning and Buck is already in his living room, him and Chris donning matching plaid Christmas pajamas and setting laser focus on the puzzle Buck let Chris unwrap last night. It’s obvious Buck spent the night, but no one so much as questions this fact. Eddie doesn’t know what to do with this information. 

Buck gets Chris a star, which takes a moment for Eddie to comprehend. He’s gone to one of those sites that might be bogus, might not be and printed out and framed the certificate for Chris. In bold black letters the star’s name is printed across the page. Superman Chris. That’s what Buck named the star. 

It’s probably not even legitimate, but the way Chris throws himself at Buck in a messy but tight hug says more than any online certificate could. 

Eddie wants to die a little bit when he sees how delicate the kiss Buck tucks against the side of Christopher’s head during the embrace is. It’s too much for his early morning brain to handle. 

— — — 

Buck’s face hurts. It’s just — this isn’t what he’s used to. Maddie was so good at Christmas mornings and letting them stay up late to watch whatever movies Buck wanted, but this is different. This is better. 

He spends the morning with Chris and Eddie and then lazes around Chim and Maddie’s apartment for whatever meal slides between lunch and dinner time. Maddie’s shooting him suspicious looks whenever she sees Buck alone in the living room with the TV on, paying exactly zero attention to what he’s watching. 

“You’re being weird.” Maddie comes out swinging again. “You’re smiling, and I know it’s not at the TV.” And oh, okay. A Christmas Story lapsed into what can only be described as the world's most depressing and badly made movie ever. “Is it Eddie?”

Buck groans. “Not everything’s about him.”

This is a lie. It’s such a lie that Maddie doesn’t even bother to believe it. 

“It’s okay to be happy, Ev. I want you to be happy.”

He doesn’t know why he’s blushing. 

“That’s not the Buckley family way.” He probably deserves the way Maddie socks him in the arm. 

“Stop daydreaming, Howie’s going to burn the mash potatoes if you don’t help.”

Buck’s mouth twitches. “I don’t think that’s even possible.” He bites his tongue on adding  _ not even Eddie could manage to fuck up that badly _ . 

— — — 

Buck’s still dopey and mushy with feelings when he comes home and rewatches the Grinch with Chris, the new one with the cute animated dog that Chris loves, then Bad Santa with Eddie once Christopher nods off on Eddie’s arm. 

“I thought Chris was going to pass out from excitement when he opened your gift.” Eddie’s tying off a trash bag in the kitchen when Buck declares movie time to officially be over. 

He’s fiddling with the last of his beer, some festive IPA Eddie’s Abuela gifted him this morning, something she absolutely bought under Eddie’s suggestion. 

“Yeah, well. At least someone got a gift.” Buck’s voice is cheeky when Eddie drops the bag and throws the last few dish towels towards the washing machine. 

He likes this late night, liminal space they keep finding themselves in. It’s like when they’re in bed and Eddie’s hands wander towards Buck to pull them together, sleepy and unconscious movements. Like he just wants contact, like he just wants Buck there. 

They haven’t talked about it, but Buck knows whatever happened at the bar wasn’t a one off. Or a two off — three-off he guesses if you count the incident in Buck’s kitchen after their first shift together. Buck definitely counts that. 

“Someone’s bitter they didn’t get a gift.”

Buck’s rolling his eyes. He knows Eddie ordered something, most likely at the last minute because he’s never shaken loose the habit of procrastination, and it’s finding its way through the postal system as they speak.

“You know that’s not what I meant.”

“I’ll get you a replacement gift, how about that?”

“Sure.” Buck turns the bottle, letting the mouth of it dangle between his fingers. He’s nervous all of a sudden. He doesn’t know when Eddie moved closer to him. 

“So?”

“So?” Buck parrots back. 

“Brat,” Eddie mumbles. “So, what do you want?”

Eddie’s voice is very not-friendlike when he leans a little closer, sets the bottle in Buck’s hand down and away from them. 

“I—”

Eddie’s so much closer now. “Buck, what do you want?”

Buck looks up, prays to whatever god is watching when he leans the last few inches in, wedging himself between Eddie and the counter and forgetting every warning that’s run through his head the past two years when he presses their mouths together, messy and desperate and so, so perfect.

He can’t get enough, not with the way Eddie’s pushing Buck back against the counter and their bodies together, not with the way Eddie’s making tiny, helpless noises like he’s wanted this as much as Buck has, and certainly not when Eddie licks into his mouth and holds onto Buck’s hips like he’s scared to let go. 

Eddie’s panting into his neck when they pull away, putting only the minimum space possible between them. 

It’s better than before, just as Buck expected. Eddie’s hands are still hot and his body still big and responsive under Buck’s touch, but there’s a fond smile on his face that wasn’t there before. 

It reminds Buck of the look Eddie gives him when they wake up together and their bodies are a little too close to be anything resembling platonic. But Eddie’s eyes aren’t dark like they are now, his lips aren’t spit slick and red from scraping against Buck’s stubble. Buck thinks he could die drinking this in. 

“Good present?”

“Huh?” Buck can’t really be expected to carry on a conversation when Eddie’s slid a leg between Buck’s and is still mouthing up his neck and leaving tiny bites. 

Eddie snorts and lifts his head to meet Buck’s eyes. “Was that a good enough present?”

Buck can’t do anything but pull Eddie back in and let himself be pushed onto the counter and let his legs fall spread, an open invite for Eddie to press in again. 

Buck can’t think of a single reason this is a bad idea when Eddie draws his hands around Buck’s waist to pull him closer and slot them together in a way that makes Buck’s throat dry and his knees weak where they’re wrapped against Eddie. 

“Good gift,” he finally huffs out. It’s dirty pool when he grinds against Eddie and toys with his belt loops so his fingers tease where they start to slip against his skin and barely under the fabric. He drops his voice low and spreads his legs wider, leaning back to put himself on display. “But I want more.”

Eddie groans and knocks their heads together. 

“This isn’t friendlike,” he warns. 

“I think we’re way past that.” Eddie’s eyes slip closed again. “C’mon,” Buck urges. “Give me what I want, Eddie. Take me to bed.”

Eddie doesn’t need to be told twice.

— — — 

Eddie’s fingers are still wide and urgent inside him. That hasn’t changed. And Buck’s just as easy as before, that hasn’t changed either. 

But Jesus fucking Christ. There’s nothing Buck can do about how wanton the tremors of his voice must sound. He tries to muffle them but Eddie’s  _ everywhere _ . He’s pressed against Buck, back to front. But he’s got Buck hitched up in his lap, encouraging a grind of his hips that’s filthy and feels like it should be illegal when he presses in, again and again and again. 

Like this, Buck feels held, like Eddie never wants to let him go. It’s not hurried like the first times, it’s slow rolls of their hips and Buck’s head thrown back to rest against Eddie’s to pant helplessly in his ear. It’s Eddie’s arm pressing against Buck’s rib cage to hold him steady and tight. 

It’s overwhelming how much Buck feels, and the fact he doesn’t have to hide it. He wants to swim in it. 

Eddie’s distracting. He’s sucking biting kisses against his neck, the shell of Buck’s ear. He’s hitching Buck up a little higher, spreading his legs just so to pull Buck down even harder. The whimper Buck lets out is perfectly embarrassing, but Eddie doesn’t seem to mind one bit, not when he’s grinding into Buck relentlessly, not as he’s letting Buck gasp against Eddie’s mouth. Saying  _ there, right there _ .  _ More _ .  _ Deeper, harder, Eds _ . And how perfectly Eddie responds, giving him that and so much more. 

Buck says  _ baby _ and Eddie’s pace stutters. He can feel the heat of his cheeks where they’re buried against his throat. When the next thrust is deeper Buck’s soft groan drips with so much satisfaction. 

“Yeah,” Eddie pants nonsensically. 

It’s intimate like this in a way Buck never expected. He can feel the clench of Eddie’s abs where he’s trying to hold on. He can hear when Eddie’s breath is punched out of him, and leads to long heavy pants. 

Buck is surrounded by Eddie everywhere, and he’s drunk with it. He never wants it to stop. 

“Evan,” Eddie warns. “Feel so good. Let me touch you. Let me take care of you.”

Buck doesn’t need any convincing. The tight grip of Eddie’s hand suddenly stripping Buck’s dick is making him see stars. Jesus Christ, Buck doesn’t care how much his thighs will burn after this. He wants to come, he wants Eddie to follow and to be the one to tip him over the edge. 

“You always take care of me. More, Eds. Just — fuck. A little more.” It only takes a handful more of thrusts with Eddie grinding deep and slow against his prostate for Buck to whine and clench and come all over himself, just like last time. 

Eddie’s face is raw with something Buck can’t quote pin down. It’s intense and open, like he never wants to let Buck go either. 

Buck couldn’t get a shit about the achy feeling racing up his spine, his body reveling in being oversensitive and fucked out. “Eddie.  _ Baby _ , let go. I’ve got you, I’ve got you—” 

Buck can’t stop himself from talking, low and quiet even to be just for them. If the death grip Eddie keeps on Buck’s hip is any indication, he’s feeling the exact same thing as Buck. 

“Don’t wanna let you go,” Eddie mumbles. 

Buck doesn’t entirely disagree, but — “you won’t. Promise. Wanna feel you though.” Eddie’s grip grows impossibly tighter. Buck feels split apart in the best way possible. 

It’s deliberate when he bears down on Eddie, clenching and hot and so, so dirty as he bats his eyelashes innocently. “Don’t you want that? To mark me up, fill me up, make sure everyone knows I’m yours.” He lets his lips graze Eddie’s, not so much a kiss but simply breathing him in.

“C’mon, Eddie.  _ Baby _ . Wanna feel it tomorrow.” Eddie croaks at that, letting his hips snap violently, pulling Buck onto his lap, exactly where he wants him and chasing the last of his sanity. 

“Jesus fucking Christ, Buck,” Eddie pants after, their heads knocked together where they’re tangled around each other. “You’re insane.”

They didn’t have this before, the slow come down when they finally pull apart, but only long enough for Eddie to tie off the condom and wipe Buck clean. 

Buck shuffles impossibly closer. “Got me what I wanted, though.”

Eddie’s smile is dimpley and come-drunk when his fingers pull on curls at the back of Buck’s neck. “Yeah, guess it did.”

— — — 

Buck doesn’t shoo Eddie out of bed when they wake up. He keeps his face mashed into Eddie’s neck and breathes him in, that familiar smell of pinewood. Like Christmas trees and the woods behind his house in Hershey. Like home. 

“I can hear Chris pretending to be quiet,” Eddie groans against Buck’s forehead. “We should get up.”

“Don’t want to.”

Eddie snorts. “Understatement of the year.”

“I promised him breakfast though.” It’s true. Chris coaxed him into a pinky promise last night when Buck carried him into bed after the movie. 

“Pancakes?”

“Eggs and sausage.”

Eddie hums happily in his ear.

“My favorite.”

Buck knows. 

“Then letme go,” Buck goads. “So I can make it.”

Eddie whines at that. He readjusts so they’re facing each other, his hand tangling idly at the hair curled against the back of Buck’s ears. 

“I need to shower too.” He’s pretty sure Eddie’s haphazard cleanup wasn’t enough to wipe all the sweat and come off Buck’s stomach and chest. 

Buck laughs loud and bright when Eddie stills at that.

“Wow, you really are possessive.” It makes sense. Eddie was eager to come on his face and rub the last bit into Buck’s skin, and that was when they hardly knew each other. 

“Shut up. Go shower. There’s a nine year old whose patience is only so strong when he knows his Buck is here.”

Something tugs at Buck’s heart.  _ His Buck _ . Eddie’s said it a hundred times before and Buck never tires of it. But it’s hard to move when Eddie’s looking like  _ that _ in their bed, hair askew and face calm and open. 

“Shower,” Eddie reminds. 

If Buck makes a show of stripping off his towel and drying himself, pulling his boxers and one of Eddie’s shirts on in front of him after his shower, well fair’s fair, isn’t it?

— — — 

Hen takes one look at him during their next shift and the biggest shit eating grin spreads over her face. “I’m so happy for you,” she coos when they’re alone restocking the ambulance. 

Buck can’t do anything but blush. 

Even Bobby senses a change, and no offense, because Buck loves him like a father and would lay down his life for him any day, but he’s one of the densest people Buck knows when it comes to situations like this. 

“Don’t tell me you’re going to shovel talk him,” Buck pleads. 

“I won’t. No promises about Athena though.”

Buck’s answering groan earns a laugh from everyone within earshot. 

— — — 

It’s not that things go downhill after that, but Buck’s mood is sour and closed off when he schleps through the door after work one night, angry waves of despair rolling off him and he beelines for the shower. 

When he re-emerges, Eddie has dinner ready and a hard cider already uncapped at Buck’s seat at the kitchen table. He doesn’t press, a fact Buck is silently grateful for. 

It’s not until they’re sprawled across the couch letting the muted commentary of a Kings game wash over them that Buck breaks his silence. 

He offers no introduction, simply sighing into his drink when he confesses: “My parents are in town.”

Eddie keeps his face carefully neutral. He can imagine what Eddie’s thinking. Since they met, Buck can count on his fingers the amount of times he’s mentioned his parents to Eddie. 

“Maddie blindsided me. She didn’t tell me until they’d already crossed the state line.” Buck winces when he speaks. 

Eddie lets Buck shuffle around what’s bothering him until both their eyes are heavy and their shoulders listing into each other. Eddie shuffles them out of the living room and into the bathroom to brush their teeth perfunctorily. 

Buck hesitates once they’re back in the hallways. He doesn’t know how to ask for what he wants, but Eddie senses it anyway. He always senses it. 

“Bed, Evan,” he whispers, lightly edging Buck’s shoulders towards his room and the big bed Buck’s starting to think of as his own. 

— — — 

The days that follow only make Buck’s frown deepen and his eyes grow shallow and darker where they bag. He won’t talk about it to anyone, not even Eddie. Not even Maddie. 

But he stays. After work he comes home to Eddie and Chris. 

He holes himself up in the bathroom and Eddie can hear the muffled way Buck grumbles in discontent when he fields Maddie’s calls. 

Eddie grabs his arm after their next shift and tries to pierce through the sadness clouding Buck’s eyes. “Let’s go home,” he urges. “We’ll order in and watch whatever you want.”

Buck stills and sighs when he finally looks back at Eddie. It’s sad and resigned when he speaks. “I have to go to Maddie’s tonight. Our parents are coming for dinner. They want to talk about — fuck, I don’t even know what.”

Eddie’s still holding onto him, squeezes once before letting go and hoping Buck understands how badly he wants him to know it’s okay to be angry or upset or whatever he needs to feel to be okay. 

“I’ll wait up,” Eddie promises, pressing a tight kiss to the side of Buck’s head. The smile Buck offers back is small but genuine. 

— — — 

Buck comes home earlier than expected. 

“I don’t want to talk about it yet,” he tells Eddie, hoping that answer is enough.

“What do you want?” When Buck answers in silence, Eddie moves closer and draws Buck’s wrist against his palm, fingers curling protectively around the skin that’s soft and vulnerable. “What do you need, Evan? What can I do?”

“I wanna go to bed,” he breathes out and Eddie nods, already tugging on his wrist and guiding him through the doorway. He lets Eddie tug again, this time at the hem of his sweater, urging it off and handing a soft T-shirt into his hands to replace it. 

They’re still quiet in bed, but Eddie can see how Buck’s starting to unwind. They’re both curled up on their sides, bodies facing each other like half moons falling together to make a whole. Eddie can feel Buck’s breathing across the short distance between them. 

Buck’s hand is tucked underneath his head, so Eddie reaches out to leave his fingertips against Buck’s hip instead. It’s protective and gentle all the same. 

“How long do I have to wait to be happy?” Buck’s voice is small when he blinks back at Eddie, catching him off guard. 

It’s a rare moment for Buck to be so open and raw at the edges like his chest is about to burst apart and flood his whole body with an all consuming grief. It’s worse than after the ladder truck pinned him down, worse than the embolism and the tsunami. Eddie hates it, he hates that he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“I want you to be happy. Chris wants you to be happy. We love you,” he presses. “Exactly how you are, okay? We love you exactly how you are.”

Buck tangles their fingers together and shuts his eyes like he’s scared of what he might find staring back at him. 

They stay like that for a while, until Buck clears his throat, opens his eyes and pulls their hands close to his chest, to his heart. It’s exactly what he did with Chris all those months ago. 

“I’m scared,” he admits. “Eddie, I’m scared. I want all of this so much. Too much.”

Eddie’s chest rattles at that. “I want this too.”  _ I want you too _ . 

“I can’t lose this. Not after everything. I can’t be a replacement again.”

“You won’t be, you aren’t,” Eddie promises. 

Buck’s eyes soften when they meet Eddie’s. There’s no hesitation written on his face when Eddie moves without thinking. He cups Buck’s cheeks in his palm and swipes his finger idly. “You aren’t a replacement, Evan.”

Buck nods back, eyes a little wet at the corners. 

“What do you want?” Eddie asks again. 

“You, this. All the time.” Eddie holds his breath when Buck leans his head in. It’s intimate and soft in a way Eddie had been scared to imagine for so long. 

“I’m tired,” he tells Eddie. “Can we stay like this? I want to stay like this.”

Eddie’s hand falls from his face and pulls Buck closer until his head is wedged underneath his chin. It’s protective and secure and Eddie tries to convey that he never wants to let Buck go. 

“C’mon. Sleep.” And Buck lets the words wash over him. 

— — —

Chris is yanking Eddie’s arm out of his socket and towards the kitchen when Buck wakes up. There’s pillow lines on Eddie’s cheek which makes Chris giggle and poke at. 

Chris protests when Eddie shushes him. “Buck’s sleeping.”

“No he’s not,” 

Buck smiles into the pillow. 

“Hi, Bucky.”

“Hi, Chris. I’m going to Maddie’s today, you wanna come with me?” Buck shrugs off a smile when Eddie’s eyes question him, searching his face to make sure he’s okay and not just pasting a smile on. Buck rolls his eyes. 

“If you come with me, we can get bagels on the way.”

Chris hoots, crawling over to Buck’s side of the bed. 

“Please don’t bribe my son.”

Buck tuts at that, letting Christopher wrap his limbs around him. 

Eddie’s already extracting himself from bed when Chris pokes Buck square in the chest. “That’s not your shirt.”

He’s right, Eddie passed it over to him last night. It’s heather gray and worn at the collar, faint bleached spots at the hemline. Not that any of that disguises the Army logo branded across the chest, proclaiming to everyone that it’s Eddie’s shirt, not his. Even though Buck has two drawers full still down the hall. 

“Well, I better change then, huh?” It’s effortless when Buck swings out of bed pulling Chris along with him. “And you too, otherwise I’ll have to get bagels and cinnamon rolls with someone else.” 

Eddie stops dead in his tracks and raises his eyebrows at Buck. 

“That was not part of the deal.”

“Don’t be jealous, Eddie.”

“Yeah,” Chris parrots. “Don’t be jealous, daddy.”

Buck presses a hand to Eddie’s chest once Chris has headed back to his bedroom, sliding his door closed with a quiet click. In this position, Buck has Eddie stopped in the bedroom door frame. It’s not a space big enough for both of them, not that Buck’s about to pull away from the proximity. 

“Aren’t you seeing your parents?” 

Buck’s sheepish when Eddie’s fingers wrap around his wrist. 

“Chimney’s bringing Albert. For moral support. But, uh.” Buck’s voice feels unsteady when he speaks and he rubs the back of his neck with his hand.

“But I want you to come. Both of you. I’m ready to forgive them, I think. But if Maddie’s having Chim and Albert — if she’s having her family there, I want mine.”

Eddie breathes out quickly.

“Is that okay?” Buck asks. 

Eddie says “Don’t be stupid” because there’s nothing else to say that won’t completely undress him and all his messy, tangled feelings. The kiss he gives Buck is soft and reassuring. 

“We’re not getting cinnamon rolls, though.”

Buck’s groans echo down the hallway after him. 

— — — 

Seeing his parents again is — Buck doesn’t know how to describe it. It’s not bad or world ending. After they talk he feels lighter and like something inside him isn’t about to topple over or burst with every backhanded remark. 

Chris is thrilled to meet anyone related to Buck, which makes his heart melt just a little bit. 

Eddie swipes his fingers over Buck’s on the drive home. 

“Proud of you,” he murmurs when they park in the driveway, letting a silence settle over them so everything can slow down and unwind. It’s clear how exhausted Buck is after today and the hours of talking and passing photos around. 

Chris asked to keep one of Buck in middle school swimming in his letterman jacket. “You’re so  _ young _ !” Chris cooed when he saw it. “You look so cool,” he said, like Buck wasn’t covered in acne and awkward and gangly with the height he had suddenly sprouted after a long summer. 

Chris pins it to the fridge when they get home, proud to have it next to his latest report card and a rather interpretive drawing of the 118 firetruck. 

— — — 

Eddie crowds him into the shower that night and drops to his knees so quickly it makes Buck dizzy. 

Buck tries really hard to be quiet and has to bite down on his fist when Eddie starts bobbing his head and looking up at Buck through his lashes. 

He never claimed to be smart when all he can manage is a low and embarrassing whine that only seems to spur Eddie on. His mouth is sliding lower and meeting his hands on the upturn of his wrist and Buck blacks out for a minute when Eddie hollows his cheeks and sucks at the head of Buck’s dick, insistent and filthy. 

He doesn’t back off when Buck pulls at his hair in warning, and Buck’s pretty sure the image of Eddie swallowing him down is the hottest thing he’s ever seen. 

Eddie’s so smug when he lifts himself back to full height and lets Buck swallow his tongue in a desperate kiss. “Happy now?”

“Shut up.”

Eddie smirks. “Make me,” he mocks, and Buck’s never been one to step down from a challenge. 

“Not yet.” When there’s a soft  _ thunk _ against the tile wall Buck snickers. 

He makes a show of washing their hair and running his body wash over both of him, taking his time to feel Eddie up, grazing his nipples and dusting his fingers over the hair leading down his navel. 

“Buck. Evan. Stop teasing.” Eddie’s voice is high and needy. 

Buck just pulls them out of the shower and ties towels around their waists before leading Eddie back to bed. 

“Are you going to touch me now?” Eddie tries for casual but Buck sees how pressed his dick looks with the lack of attention. 

Buck doesn’t answer, just straddles Eddie instead and reaches for lube. Eddie’s eyes go dark and hooded when Buck slides his fingers back and starts opening himself up. 

Eddie says  _ let me _ and who is Buck to protest. 

He’s not as careful as last time. He lets his fingers catch on Buck’s rim and pull moans out of him. He presses in deep and relentless against Buck’s prostate and whatever composure and confidence Buck had before has morphed into a desperate want. 

He mimics Eddie’s voice from earlier. “Are you gonna fuck me now?” 

He probably deserves the nip Eddie gives him. 

Buck tries again. “How do you want me?” His voice is low and scraping when he presses his mouth to Eddie ear, leaving sucking kisses behind his ear and down his throat. 

“Jesus, Buck.”

Buck grinds down slowly just to be a brat. 

Eddie flips them easily and hitches Buck’s hips up. “Like this?” He asks, like Buck would ever say no to Eddie like this. 

He presses inside slower than Buck wants, making him sweat where Eddie’s hand rests on his lower back, encouraging Buck on. 

“I’m not gonna break,” Buck mumbles before Eddie snaps in, hot and hard against him. Buck’s mouth is suddenly dry where it’s dropped open. 

Eddie doesn’t slow down after that, giving it to Buck deep and relentless and like he never wants to let go. 

His mouth is covering Buck’s and the hand that’s not gripping his hip bone is tangled in his hair and pulling back just enough to make Buck bare his throat for Eddie. 

He pushes Buck’s leg up a little higher and grinds in again. 

“Oh,” Buck whimpers uselessly. 

Eddie keeps it up and covers Buck with kisses. He’s mumbling praises into Buck’s ear and it’s too much. Buck feels like he’s being taken apart in the best way possible. 

Eddie says, “feels so good, Evan,” and Buck croaks as his hips twitch involuntarily. Eddie doesn’t let up. He tells Buck how hot he looks, how good he’s being, and how much Eddie wants him, how he always wants him. 

“Eddie, ‘m close.” Buck’s breathing is uneven and coming out in long pants where Eddie’s mouth covers his, not so much in a kiss but just their lips against each other like they can’t bear to be apart. 

“Touch yourself. Want to see you, Ev.”

Buck won’t admit how much the nickname gets to him. He whines again when Eddie doubles down on his pace and pulls them roughly together when Buck rolls his hips down to meet him. 

He bites down on Eddie bicep when he comes and Buck’s sure there will be angry red scratch marks on his shoulder blades tomorrow. 

Buck flips them once he regains his composure and slides down until his ass is flush with Eddie’s hips. 

He bears down again and again until Eddie’s stomach starts to tense like he’s holding himself back. Buck grinds down and moves his hips in a dirty little motion that makes Eddie gasp. 

Eddie pulls him into a heated kiss when he comes, his mouth opening against Buck’s. 

“You like it,” Eddie accused when Buck pulls the sheets over them and cuddles into Eddie’s chest. He likes being the little spoon, much to Eddie’s delight. 

“What?”

“Being fucked. After you come.”

“Oh. That.”

Eddie nips at Buck’s neck again, not heat behind it. 

“I like  _ you _ ,” Buck settles with. 

“Fine with me.”

Eddie gets flicked in the arm after he answers. He just rolls his eyes at Buck and tightens his arm. 

“I love you, but shut up.”

And oops. Buck definitely did not mean to say it like that or at this moment. 

Eddie turns his body over so they’re face to face. Buck doesn’t feel embarrassed when he sees Eddie’s expression. 

“Brat,” Eddie huffs. “I love you.”

Buck can’t stop smiling when he falls asleep or when he wakes up the next morning with Eddie’s body draped across his own. 

“Your hair’s in my mouth,” Buck complains. 

Eddie just presses in closer and tries to wiggle against Buck until his head presses further into Buck’s face. 

Eddie swears he locked the door last night, but Chris proves him wrong when he pops his head through the half open door. 

“Bucky,” he whispers. He fails and his voice is loud, Eddie laughs quietly into Buck’s chest. 

“Yeah, buddy?”

“Moana’s on tv.”

“Well I can’t miss my favorite movie with my favorite person, now can I?”

Chris giggles when Eddie makes a noise in protest. 

“Not fair,” Eddie grouches. 

When Chris slips back into the hallway Buck falls back onto the pillow. 

“You don’t count,” he promises. 

“Uh huh.” Eddie’s tone is disbelieving. 

“I love you, it’d be an unfair advantage.”

“Don’t leave,” Eddie says suddenly. “I mean.” He clears his throat. “Stay here. Live here. We want you here. I want you here.”

Buck kisses him again, and he feels gooey and disgustingly happy. 

“Softy,” he teases. Like Buck would ever want to leave. 

“You’re the one in love with me. What does that say about your taste?”

Buck nuzzles against him before Chris’ voice crackles down the hallways. 

“I won’t leave,” Buck promises. And he doesn’t. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She is done :( I will miss her even tho I felt like I could write so much of this still.  
> Thank u for any comments !!! I love writing random shit for class n obviously not for class and what not & makes me happy to see any comment


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